


Marik's Evil Genius Plan™

by sitabethel



Category: YGOTAS - Fandom, Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Feefshipping, M/M, Thiefshipping (abridged), YGOTAS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-23 12:27:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7463226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sitabethel/pseuds/sitabethel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marik may have ... exaggerated the dumb blonde act he's always given Bakura and every other character in the show, but It's time to start his ultimate Genius Plan (YGOTAS/ FEEFSHIPPING/ MATURE FIC)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Double Revealing

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Cardiac Crisis and Chaosrocket for the betas!

"I said no!" Bakura hurled his book across the room.

Marik dodged and flung a control pad at Bakura's head. "Quit being a stubborn jackass, Bakura, and listen to my brilliant plan!"

Bakura ducked, feeling the control pad skim the top of his hair. "You bleeding, ridiculous, capricious wanker!"

"Yeah? Well- you spoony bard!"

Bakura frowned at the insult. "What does that even mean?"

Marik cackled with his hands on his perfect, bronzed stomach. "I don't know. I heard it in a video game and thought it was funny!" Marik gave Bakura a huge grin. "That was fun, arguing like that. Now let's get to serious business."

"Aaaarg! Must I get a box of crayons and color a picture for you? I'm done! No more evil plans! No more leather pants, or spamming Yugi's Youtube, or even pornorgraphic skits for children's charity! No more! I'm done with it all!" Bakura clenched his teeth, chest heavy from anger and the last fifteen minutes of dodging flying objects. "I'm sick of _all_ of this."

"The Youtube scheme was _your_ dumb idea!" Marik threw his hands into the air and dropped them at his sides. "At least listen to mine. Mine's true Evil Genius™!"

"Why? There's no point to it." Bakura balled his hands into fists, growling, turning around and walking towards his bedroom. "Forget it, Marik. Forget whatever hair-brained scheme you've dreamed up and go back to playing _Vampire the Masquerade._ "

"Bakura."

Something about the tone of Marik's voice made Bakura freeze in place. The way he'd said Bakura's name, it was calm and intentional, and there was a bit of a dare behind it. Usually Marik sang Bakura's name out, or whined, or called out in mock offense. Marik never … _said_ Bakura's name, and hearing him do so at that moment made a shiver crawl up Bakura's spine.

He had no choice but to turn around, half expecting a trick of some sort. He'd turn around and see Marik juggling on a unicycle and screaming _dat boi_ or perhaps he'd be dressed up like Pink from the Lady Marmalade video. Bakura had to close his eyes and hold his breath because his brain had conjured a clear and vivid image of Marik wearing black garters, heels, and a top hat and _sweet gods_ Marik could pull it off, and something about the long golden hair, kohl-lined eyes, and top hat together particularly had Bakura's heart singing _gitchi gitchi ya ya da da_.

A soft laugh drew Bakura back to the moment. His eyes fluttered opened to see Marik talking slow, calculated steps towards him. His body language was different, like his voice was different. It was fluid, all confident grace and none of the casual jester-like carelessness that Marik usually carried in his movements.

Bakura's mouth dropped when Marik started toying with his belt buckle. "Good grief, Bakura, I haven't even started seducing you yet, and you already look like you're going to cream yourself."

"Huh?" Bakura narrowed his eyebrows, still trying to figure out what exactly Marik was up to. Not for one second did Bakura believe that seduction was on the menu.

But Marik dropped his belt to the floor and continued to cross their living room one precise step at a time, like a dark king on a chessboard taking his time to travel square by square. "It's not easy always playing a knave's game. Malik Blishtar was one thing, but around you it gets exhausting. But you see, Bakura, I wasn't quite ready to reveal myself to you." Marik paused a moment, looking down at his shirt as he started to undo the chains and pull the lavender silk away from his tanned chest. He looked up at Bakura with eyes richer and deeper in color than the silk he wore, and he gave Bakura a demure smile. "Well, I suppose we'll consider this a double revealing, schemes and sexy abs both at once …" Marik glided his fingers down the line of his eight-pack. "Like them?"

"I don't …"

"Of course you don't understand, Bakura. You're stupid." Marik grinned, half a giggle escaping him. "So stupid. It's a good thing you're pretty. But stupid or not, you've always been useful, with a little coaxing, too bad your feminine hysteria getting in the way of our plans."

"I'm not hysterical," Bakura hissed. Then he realized what he'd just implied and began stuttering. "O-or feminine! I mean, lots of men are named Florence- that doesn't make me feminine!" Bakura growled. He _did_ feel stupid, but he couldn't exactly think because Marik was getting close and now he was working on the button of his pants. Bakura tried to keep on task. "Exactly how have I been useful? As backup for your Let's Plays? We've accomplished _nothing_ since episode 33."

Marik smiled again, licking his fingertips before pulling down his zipper and folding back the fabric to give Bakura a peek at the skin beneath.

Bakura dropped to his knees. He couldn't blink, couldn't swallow, couldn't think to save his immortal life.

"It doesn't _look_ like we've done anything because I've activated my super secret sexy stealth mode, but we've done the most important task a villain can do, Fluffy. We've moved the plot forward. How else can the hero get to the end of the story unless he has a villain helping him each step of the way? Not to mention, I needed us to finish season 2 so Melvin could destroy the fourth wall, and I needed Yugi and the others to get trapped in that bothersome Noa filler arc in order to force Yugi to use a plot hole to get back to the main storyline."

"Plot hole? What the bloody hell?"

Marik sighed. "We'll get to those later. For now just know that Yugi had to be the first to use them as a portal or I never could have myself. Main Character Privilege - the bane of every evil sexy villain! The main character wins no matter what we do!" Marik took the last three steps until he was standing in front of Bakura, looking down at him with a smile that was too intelligent for Bakura to believe that it truly belonged to the carefree idiot that he'd spent the last several years of his life with.

"You look really good on your knees, by the way," Marik whispered, taking his thick, swollen cock in hand and easing it out of his pants for Bakura to see. "If it's any consolation, I've been as hard up as you. I can't count how many times I've wanted to slam you against the nearest wall and fuck your bloody brains out, Bakura, but unfortunately a happy, satisfied kitty wouldn't be focused on vengeance." Marik started rubbing the head of his cock with his thumb, and Bakura couldn't help but lick his lips like a dog waiting for scraps to fall off the dinner table. He was trying to make sense of Marik's mad rambling, but all he really caught was when Marik said _fuck your bloody brains out_. "But don't worry, Fluffy, we've made it to season 4, and while those foolish fools mess around with the Orichalcos, we have time to set a trap for them and take control of the show once and for all."

"Ori-cal-what-now?" Bakura asked, sighing and noticing how Marik's cock twitched closer to Bakura's mouth as his breath washed over the tight skin.

"Not important." Marik's eyes lidded as they continued to stare at Bakura. He rested his left hand against the wall behind Bakura, and used his right hand to guide the tip of his cock across Bakura's bottom lip.

Bakura sighed again, almost moaned. He couldn't believe what was happening, that the smooth, hot flesh running back and forth against his bottom lip belonged to Marik, that this was _happening_ and it was real and not another dream sequence.

"The only thing that's important," Marik spoke with smug tone, "is that you listen to my plan and do exactly as I say, and If you do, then I'll give you a little taste of everything you've been fantasizing about."

Bakura groaned, daring to dab the tip of his tongue out and taste Marik's skin for the first time. It was smooth and burning hot, and Bakura wanted nothing more than to fill his mouth with as much of Marik as he could fit.

Marik pulled back a touch. "One last thing before we begin. What is the most powerful power in our universe? Besides main character status, of course."

Bakura giggled, feeling giddy. "Your Rod."

Marik snorted at the joke. "In a manner of speaking."

He shoved himself into Bakura's mouth, all the way to the back of Bakura's throat. They both moaned in sheer pleasure, Marik out loud, Bakura muffled. "It's … the Items … but- frig- we live in a parody universe. The Items have powers, but in a way they're nothing more than comic props. My Rod only works on Steves. Your Ring acts as gaydar- speaking of which, holy fuck Bakura do you practice on kabasas all day long? Holy, friggin Winged Dragon of Ra, it's like your mouth was made for my cock."

Bakura knew his face was the color of blood on a sharp blade. He felt the heat radiating off his cheeks as Marik spoke, and he hoped Marik wasn't close because Bakura wanted to keep sucking forever. He'd waited so long for _anything_ to happen that he didn't care that he was on his knees like a Twi'lek slave dancer. He was sucking Marik's cock and listening to the stutters and pauses in Marik's speech as Bakura began to unravel him. He gripped the base of Marik's cock so Marik had a free hand to twist into Bakura's white mess of hair.

"And … and … other than creating an amazing ancient Egyptian light show, our Items have severe limits … Fluffy, you are a very good kitty."

The last bit should have infuriated Bakura, but he was lost to the moment and just took the compliment in stride, slipping Marik a little deeper now that he was dripping with Bakura's saliva.

"But-" Marik hitched forward, unable to keep still any longer. "The- canon- Items- are … _ahhhh_ … they're … they're … _ahhh_ \- more powerful than ours. If we … if we could … get our hands on … Bakura!"

Marik's grip twisted in Bakura's hair. He began thrusting, almost too deep, but Bakura kept his throat relaxed, relishing each push of Marik's dick into his opened mouth. He felt Marik's cock twitching even as Marik's words deconstructed to a low, lust-filled growl. His hips slammed faster and then faster still, and then he eased up a bit and came. Bakura started at the heat coating the back of his throat, but he swallowed, and then pulled away and gasped for breath as hard as Marik.

Marik dropped to his knees beside Bakura. For an awkward moment their eyes met, and neither seemed capable of turning away.

"I …" Marik tried to say something, but the words faded on his tongue.

"So, let's go back to the part where you're _faking_ being stupid?"

"Hmmm." Marik grinned, palming the bulge in Bakura's pants and making him call out. "Wouldn't you rather me take care of this for you?"

He pulled Bakura towards him, tugging down Bakura's pants and freeing Bakura's cock. Marik ruffled through his own pants, pulling out a small bottle of hand lotion and pouring a generous amount into his hand, warming the lotion with his palms. "Did you catch the part about getting ahold of a stronger set of Millennium Items?"

"Sort of," Bakura said. "Honestly, I'm not paying much attention."

"I know, because you're stupid. That's why I do all the planning."

"Sure, Marik. Whatever you say."

"Yes, that's the right attitude." Marik laughed, rewarding Bakura by wrapping his slick palm around Bakura's shaft and slowly stroking him.

Bakura jerked and screamed right away, unabashed and without shame. He felt good. Marik's hand felt good on his cock, and he didn't care if he screamed loud enough for everyone in Egypt to hear him … or Japan … the United States? Bakura still didn't know where the bloody hell they were, and he didn't care. Above all else they were in the living room, and Marik's broad hands had no trouble working Bakura into a frenzy.

"Like I mentioned, we can use the plot holes as portals, and now there's no fourth wall forcing us to stay in our own dimension."

"Uh-huh," Bakura gasped between thick, raspy groans.

"So it's just a matter of walking into one of our canon dimensions and taking what we want."

"Marik."

"We could even go to the original source material- the manga- and get the version of the Items with the _most_ power because they're our origins."

"Marik."

"Think about it, Bakura!" Marik leaned closer, his hand moving at a furious pace as his speech quickened in his excitement. "Yugi's Puzzle denotes him as the main character. As long as he has the privileges that come along with that title- we can't defeat him. Listen, Bakura, this part's important- _we can't beat him as long as he's the protagonist._ We can't change the plot no matter how much we want to, need to, deserve to. It's useless. But the original Items will make us _better_ than him. The laws of physics that guide our universe will have to bend to _our wills_ , acknowledge _our desires_."

Bakura flung his arms around Marik's neck and screamed into his shoulder. "Marik! Marik! Marik! I'm going to come!"

Bakura continued to whimper into Marik's shoulder. He came so hard and for so long that stars danced across his vision when he reopened his eyes. He looked up at Marik. Stands of white hair obscured his vision and his striped shirt was heavy with his own sweat.

Marik chuckled at him, bumping their noses together. "Did you catch any of that?"

Bakura groaned and dropped his head back to Marik's shoulder. "Bits of it. Sounds like fanfic nonsense to me."

"Still going to help me do it?"

Bakura groaned again. This time because he was exactly as stupid as Marik teased him for being. "You know I always do. No matter how ridiculous your plans get."

"This isn't a plan. This is The Plan. I've been working on this since …"

"Since when?" Bakura asked, only half listening. His body was void of the usual tension and rage. Marik's scent surrounded him, sweat, skin, and body heat, and Bakura's eyes kept slipping shut, his mind yearning for sleep in Marik's arms.

"It's not important," Marik said, pressing Bakura up into a sitting position. "We'd better get some sleep. The early villain gets the Millennium Items."

Bakura pulled up his pants, glad Marik had separated them. Acting like a dope in the middle of a hand job was one thing, but he didn't want to explain why he'd fallen asleep in Marik's arms- not even to Marik. "Are you sure you were faking your idiocy? Perhaps it's intelligence you're feigning."

Marik winked, giving Bakura a sultry smile. "Only time will tell." With that, he disappeared into his own bedroom.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm too tired to write notes and stuff, but here's the next chapter. FYI, I tried to weave in some fandom references into this as well as a lot of abridged references (ex: the Golden Girls mention is a homage to Unpaid Interns written by Banana Ghoul. If for some reason you haven't read that yet, you definitely should).

Marik woke Bakura from a hard sleep by dive-bombing into him on the bed. "Good morning, Fluffy! It's going to be a beautiful day! Perfect for an Evil Genius™ plan!"

"Marik … off …" Bakura muttered, trying to catch the wind that had been knocked from his lungs. He wasn't sure if he was telling Marik to get off or sod off, but in either case, Bakura wanted to fall back asleep. It'd been the best sleep he'd had in 5,000 years and he didn't want it to end.

Marik bounced on the bed, pulling Bakura further and further away from the rest he coveted. "Sorry! No can do, Bakura. We're very busy villains and need to be up and about our evil business!"

"Okay … okay … just, five more minutes, go put on your make-up," Bakura muttered, having no intention of getting up in five minutes or at all.

"Ha! I'm not falling for _that_ one again. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on you again for taking advantage of my trusting nature." Marik started scruffing up Bakura's already disastrous white tangle of hair. "I know what you need to wake up- a song."

"Marik, don't you dare," Bakura growled into his pillow.

He heard Marik snicker and suck in too deep a breath. " _Why are the lights so bright? Oh Bakura, did we get hitched last night dressed up like Elvis? Why am I wearing your Millennium Ring? Don't call your mother! Cuz now we're partners in crime~"_

At the mention of the Ring, Bakura's fingers shot to the gold around his neck. He exhaled when he felt the cold metal almost burning his fingertips. Rolling over, Bakura tried swatting Marik away, but the annoying whine continued.

" _Don't be a baby, Fluffy! Remember what you told me! Shut-up and put your money where your mouth is! That's what you get for waking up in Domino! Get up and shake the glitter off your clothes now. That's what you get for waking up in Domino~"_

"Marik," Bakura growled, rubbing his eyes and trying to get them to open. "I'm awake, stop that wretched mewling, and get off of me."

"Great! Here's breakfast!"

Something icey pressed against Bakura's chest. His cocoa-colored eyes popped open in surprise. "Marik, that's cold!"

"Well of course it is," Marik grinned. "You haven't cooked it yet."

Bakura groaned, fumbling for the box of frozen strawberry Toaster Strudels and stumbling out of bed. "I hate you so sodding much."

"D'awww, I hate you too, Fluffy."

"I'm not fluffy," Bakura mumbled, but it was out of reflex. He'd resigned himself to Marik's foolish nickname years ago, and usually only complained about it when others were in earshot.

Bakura dug the toaster out of the pantry and popped two pastries into the slots. For himself he put the kettle on for tea. He then dragged a stool next to the counter so he could sit and stare at the toaster to make sure Marik's pastries didn't burn. He worked the two little frosting packets with his fingers for something to do while he waited. Bakura scowled when the toaster popped up the pastries. They were never done the first time, and if he turned the toaster to the next setting he always managed to burn them, so he pressed the lever down again, poured his tea, fetched a paper plate from the pantry, and then forced the toaster lever back up, wondering when he'd gotten their breakfast down to such a precise science.

Bakura used a pocket knife to cut open the frosting packets and drew a bad picture of Mr. Tweetums on one pastry and an even cruder image of a motorcycle on the other. He swore to Marik that he only did it to shut Marik up for five minutes each morning while he enjoyed his Earl Grey and woke up, but secretly, Bakura always got a strange jolt in the pit of his stomach when he saw Marik's eyes light up and his face break out into a huge grin each morning when Bakura handed him the stupid little breakfast squares.

A quiet chuckle made Bakura turn around, paper plate in his hands and ready to present to Marik who was leaning over the kitchen table and watching Bakura with a sleek stare. "See why I act the way I do? When I first met you, I couldn't get you to say 'hello', let alone cook me breakfast. Now I have you so well trained that you practically draw love notes for me each morning."

"They're not love notes! And I only do it so-"

"Yes, yes, so you can drink your tea in peace. I've heard your cute little excuses a thousand times." Marik winked again. "It's okay, I won't tell anyone what a good kitty you are."

Bakura slammed the plate in front of Marik, crossing his arms over his chest and huffing. "Eat your bloody pastries and let's get on with whatever ridiculous bloody plan you were rambling about last night-" Bakura's eyes widened as memories from the night before flooded back into his mind. He dropped into the chair across from Marik, watching the blonde as he made _vrooom_ sound effects and drove his Toaster Strudel across the kitchen table, although the icing was melting and the motorcycle looked like it had been done by a drunk, irate Picasso.

Bakura stared at Marik, trying to figure out the new rules to the game, trying to figure Marik himself out, no longer trusting the jovial surface image of a drop-dead gorgeous moron playing with his food. "So … last night wasn't some weird dream sequence?"

Marik smirked, driving the motorcycle up to his mouth and taking a vicious bite. "What if you're still dreaming?"

"If I'm still dreaming, then I'd appreciate it if you let me sleep instead jumping on the bed and screaming incorrect Katy Perry lyrics at me."

Marik shrugged, taking another bite. "I liked the partners in crime line. Fits us, doesn't it?"

Bakura snorted, wondering if Marik hid his own little love notes in some of his foolishness but hesitant to believe that was true. He got up and grabbed the tea, making a second cup for Marik and remembering to add a disgusting account of sugar- it was the way Marik insisted on drinking it. He slid the cup over to Marik and scowled. "Not one word."

Marik's smirk grew. "What?"

"I know what you're thinking."

"That you know how I take my tea?"

"I said not one word."

"Okay." Marik shrugged. "Plenty of other things to do with my mouth." He took the teacup, dabbing his tongue out for Bakura to see before taking an intentional sip from his cup. His eyes stayed trained on Bakura as he did it, ensuring he held Bakura's attention. After a sip Marik set the cup down, making a quiet _mmmm_ sound and licking his bottom lip. Bakura dropped his own cup as he stared in awe.

"Sod," he cursed under his breath, picking up the cup and setting it in the sink and grabbing a dish cloth to clean up the spilled tea.

Marik was laughing, peeking beneath the table and watching Bakura. "At least the cup didn't break. Hmmmm, and the sight of you are your knees again brings back some fond memories."

Bakura was blushing and he was bloody pissed about it, but there wasn't anything he could do other than try and change the topic. "So what were you going on about last night? Plot holes, and canon, and an extra set of Items? Won't another Puzzle just stick us with another Pharaoh? I could live without _that_."

"Without a vessel, there isn't much the original Pharaoh could do."

"In a similar train of thought, wouldn't that also be true about the original me?"

Marik shrugged. "Wouldn't you temporarily lend yourself to yourself if it meant he got to win? We can always return the Ring to the proper universe when we're done with it." Marik started on his second pastry.

Bakura thought of it for a moment. He did agree that he'd lend a hand to an alternate version of himself if it meant at least somewhere in some universe that bastard of a pharaoh finally got what he deserved. "Do you really think more Items will help?"

"Yes." Marik nodded, drinking his tea with a serious expression on his face. "When all's said and done, our Items might as well be the Millennium Whoopie Cushion and the Millennium Joy Buzzer. Everything in our universe is a joke. The canon Items were created for real Shadow Magic, and real power, and with that power it'll become our show- not theirs."

"But are you sure it's a good idea to use the original Items? I mean, our canon versions can be a bit … extreme." Bakura chuckled, thinking about season two. "Could you imagine if I had actually stabbed myself instead of just giving myself wanker's cramp? That would have been awful."

"Definitely less fun." Marik licked his lips again, trying to get Bakura to give up another blush, but Bakura managed to stay calm. Sighing at his failure, Marik tucked a strand of gold hair behind his ear, making his earing catch the overhead light and flash for a stunning moment. "What's the matter, _'Kura_? Afraid to get corrupted by a little real power? Should I buy you some motley and let you juggle bowling balls and live chickens with the rest of those fools? We can gather everyone up for another Evil Council meeting if you want. Talk about our eyeliner and how we could sneak into Yugi's room in the middle of the night and paint his fingernails dayglow green so that none of his clothes match, but I rather thought you were done with _those_ sort of evil schemes. You acted like you were last night. I thought you were ready to transcend this pathetic comedy and become a real damn villain."

Bakura laughed at Marik's taunt, crossing his legs as he watched Marik popped the last bite of strudel into his mouth. "I must admit, this other side of you is a little intriguing." Bakura tilted his head in thought. "But you were always so hesitant to kill them before, what changed your mind?"

Marik snorted. "It's not that I was against killing them. It's that we _can't_. Those fucktards in Standards and Practices would censor it, I've told you that. Besides …" Marik ran his finger across the paper plate, wiping up a drop of icing that had dribbled from his pastry and then sucking on his finger for a moment. "There's worse things than dying. Both Yami and Yugi have spent their entire existence as main characters, take away that privilege and they're nothing. Can you imagine how they'd react to that?"

Bakura bit his bottom lip, trying to repress the delighted grin on his face. Yami's narcissism was boundless. To strip him of everything that made him special, his fan girls, his screen time, his leather pants, was truly punishment far worse than death, and Bakura couldn't fathom why he'd never considered it before. He'd grown too complacent, following the script of their show like a pawn, and here Marik was elevating them from mere playable characters to the game's Dark Masters.

His brown eyes flicked up to look at Marik who sat with a demure smile on his face and his hands folded neatly beneath his chin. "So?" Marik asked.

"Where do we find these plot holes?"

Marik's grin made him look like a gold and copper cheshire cat. "Haven't you noticed them around? They're everywhere." He stood up, gesturing for Bakura to follow him.

Outside everything looked gray except the tops of the buildings that glowed bright white-gold with the first slant of dawn light. Bakura shivered as the morning chill nipped at his elbows and pulled the skin of his arms into gooseflesh.

"Cold?" Marik wrapped an arm around Bakura's shoulders.

Bakura wanted nothing more to sigh at the feeling of their bodies pressing together and sink into the heat radiating off of Marik, but he couldn't handle the affection, so he wiggled out of Marik's hold and walked beside Marik, but with a person's width of space between them.

Marik tsk-tsked, shaking his head. "A good kitty you may be, but not a sweet one. I could have gotten away with it, you know, had I merely glomped you and started rambling about Kevin Spacey. You always let me paw all over you when I pretended to be dumb and in the closet."

Bakura frowned, shoving his hands into his pockets as they walked. He thought about all the ridiculous, frustrating moments where Marik did things like dance around their flat in a nothing but a towel after a shower, or used Bakura as furniture during a movie, or crawled into bed and cuddled with Bakura for an entire week after a reoccurring nightmare that The Golden Girls had been pulled from television and replaced with non-stop marathons of Hee Haw Honeys. "Wait, you …"

"Often trick you into being affectionate by acting like an oblivious idiot?"

"Well I'm not falling for it anymore."

Marik smirked as they walked. "Okay … challenge accepted."

"What?"

"Challenge accepted. We'll see how much I can get away with now that you know my game." Marik shook his head. "But not right now. Business first, pleasure later …" Marik pointed to a light blue, swirling vortex tucked behind and alley. "Oh look, we've found a plot hole."


	3. Chapter 3

Bakura gave the giant, whirling sphere a suspicious look, much like how a cat considers anything new brought into their territory. "Have you ever used one?"

"Of course. I sent Steves in at first, and when most of them came back alive, I went in myself."

Bakura raised a white eyebrow. "Most of them?"

Marik shrugged. "Not every Steve is a winner, Bakura."

Bakura gave Marik a dry snort before turning his attention back to the plot hole. "If these things are everywhere, why have I never seen one before?"

"Suspended disbelief. It's easier to accept our reality for what it is, but now that you've seen it…"

Marik let the sentence drop, but Bakura nodded, understanding. "I've pretty much taken the red pill, haven't I?"

Marik nodded, a touch of sympathy in his expression. Bakura despised it. He didn't want sympathy, not even from Marik. In a fit of defiance-induced bravery, Bakura shoved his fist into the blue Star Trek looking portal, wisps of yellow and pink shimmering amongst the blue. If felt like plunging his hand into a cold lake that wasn't quite real. Bakura pulled his hand back and stared at it..

"Well?"

Bakura's eyes darted up to Marik. "Well? What? Do we jump in? Is there some sort of trick to it?"

Marik gave Bakura a victorious grin, offering his hand. "Well …"

Bakura scowled "If this is a trick to get me to hold your hand-"

"If we just jump in willy nilly, who knows where we'll end up. Everything gets confusing in a plot hole. God forbid we end up in a fanfic by mistake." Marik paused, visibly shuddering at some of the potential options. He shook his head and reached out to Bakura for a second time. "I have to think of the precise universe and the precise moment for us to appear in. It's better if you just take my hand and come along for the ride since you've never done this before."

Bakura stared at Marik's hand as if he still didn't trust it.

"Worst case scenario if I'm lying is that I scream _gotcha_ and cackle at how gullible you are. Worst case scenario if I'm telling the truth is that we end up only 4kids knows where doing 4kids knows what. In which case do you suffer more if you're wrong?"

Bakura exhaled in defeat, locking his fingers around Marik's fingers, turning his head away from Marik. "Let's just get this over with."

"Okay." Marik gave Bakura a quick peck on the cheek and then threw them into the plot hole.

Bakura's breath caught in his throat because of Marik's unexpected gesture, but before Bakura could do more than drop his jaw, they were already drowning in a swirl of blue. Then Bakura felt like he was floating, and then landing.

Bakura looked around as soon as everything stopped spinning. It was night and raining, but everything looked rather the same. "This is disappointing."

"What did you expect? It's our world, more or less, just a few dimensions over."

"I thought it'd be more … real somehow."

"Funny," Marik said. "I thought it'd be less real."

A tentative laugh slipped out of Bakura as he continued to look around. "The correlation between reality and perception ... sounds like an interesting concept to discuss while drinking chardonnay."

"Heh, are you asking me on a date, Bakura?"

"What? No!" Bakura huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "But if you're dropping your idiot's facade I might as well get a decent conversation out of you from time to time."

Marik snorted. "We have in-depth conversations all the time!"

Bakura opened his mouth to explain why arguing wasn't quite the same as adult conversation, but then the hint of a shadow caught his eye. Bakura turned in time to see the tail of a black coat slip into an alley. He moved to follow.

Marik grabbed him with both hands and jerked him back. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I saw the other version of me." Bakura pointed towards the alley.

"Yeah, so _don't follow_ him. We're trying to avoid anyone significant to the story seeing us. We're going this way." Marik dragged Bakura down a different alley.

"How exactly are we supposed to get the Ring if we can't ask for it?"

"There'll be a better time to get the Ring. For now we're getting the Rod and Necklace."

Bakura snorted. "You _would_ insist on knicking the Rod first."

Marik smirked, stopping and leaning against the wall. "Don't worry, Bakura. Did I not already tell you that this is all part of my Evil Genius™ plan? We'll get each Item in its own time."

Bakura glared at Marik, tapping his foot on the wet pavement. "Is standing here like fools part of your bloody plan, too?"

Marik shrugged. "The Steve is late. We'll have to wait for him."

Bakura blinked. "Steve?"

Marik nodded and a moment later the echo of running footsteps greeted them. They turned and saw one of Marik's purple cloaked lackies running to them with a Macy's shopping bag in his hand. As soon as he noticed Marik, he dropped to one knee and bowed his hand. "Master Marik."

"You're late," Marik said with a hard, deadpanned tone.

"There weren't any purple ones in the men's department. I-I had to get one from the ladies side of the store."

Bakura tensed, wondering how Marik would handle the obvious incompetence of his henchman.

But Marik only grinned and waved off the Steve with his hand. "Oh, I could have told you that! I shop in the ladies' department all the time! How else do you think I always look so fabulous?" Marik took the bag, peeked inside, and then pointed behind them. "Good job Steve. Portal's behind us. Go and find the others. You all did a very good job, enjoy your pizza party."

The Steve's face lit up at the mention of a pizza party. He ran off, leaving Bakura with his jaw hung slack in disbelief. "That's it? You're late, but good job go have lunch?"

"They're only Steves, Bakura. You can't expect much from them. Besides …" Marik pulled out dark purple coat with lavender dyed fur trim. "What's important is that he picked out something that looks amazing on me." Marik pulled out a large pair of sunglasses. "How do you like my disguise, Fluffy?"

A headache stabbed into Bakura's skull. He massaged the bridge of his nose. "You know … for a moment there … I honestly thought this was going to be different. That we were actually going to do something evil. That you were more than a half-naked half-wit. You really tricked me. Haha, Marik. Guess I deserve this for being a fool and actually thinking that there was more to you."

Marik held out the bag for Bakura. "I got a costume for you, too."

"Yippee. I can't wait to see it." Bakura grabbed the bag and looked inside. At first it looked like a plain white hoodie, which didn't seem so bad, but then he pulled it out from under the bag. "Marik," he growled. " _I'm not bloody wearing this._ "

"Best if no one see's our faces."

"This hoodie has a puss's tail."

Marik laughed. "You said puss; that's funny. The hood has ears, too."

" _I'm not bloody wearing it_."

Marik heaved a dramatic sigh. "Bakura, we're in another dimension. It's one of those wibbly wobbly timey wimey things, only worse because it's also … uh … googly moogly spacey wacy stuff added into the mix? Technical terms aside, it's really dangerous for people to see us when we're really not us. It could create a paradox, or alter the plot in a way that destroys canon, and if canon's destroyed what happens to our universe? Should we all die here and now because you can't take a joke and wear a neko hoodie for shits and giggles? Jeez, Bakura, lighten up!"

Bakura glared at Marik, teeth grinding together, knuckles as white as the hood clenched in his hands. "Would you do _all this_ just to see some cat ears on me?"

Marik's smile never seemed to tire, and he looked far too handsome surrounded by lavender faux fur. "Maybe, but probably not."

Bakura threw the bag on the ground. "Then get one of your stupid Steves to fetch the Items for you! I'm going home and taking a bloody nap!"

"Steves can barely handle fetch quests. I need a duffel bag stolen- I need a thief." Marik lowered his glasses so Bakura could stare into his lavender eyes. "I need you, Bakura."

Bakura felt his hands curl into fists again. His lips were knotted into the best angry frown he could manage, but his cheeks burned like hot sauce. He didn't like the way Marik's words made him feel, a little less like a dark spirit and a little more like the legendary thief he once was. Bakura growled, and threw the hoodie over his head and tucked his white mane inside the hood so he wouldn't be recognizable. "I _hate_ you. I _hate_ you so sodding much. If this bloody plan of yours doesn't work I'm going back to Dartz's council and I'm _not_ letting the fangirls talk me out of it this time. I don't care how much they cry."

"This way." Marik turned around and continued to walk down the alley in the direction from which the Steve had appeared.

Bakura grit his teeth and muttered to himself, wondering why he was going along with yet another disastrous plan of Marik's.

They stopped, and Marik pointed at two figures walking down the street- a duffle bag slung over one of their shoulders. "There's your mark. The Rod and Necklace are in that bag." Marik sighed. "Not going to lie. I can't wait to hold the Rod in my hands again."

"And stroke it suggestively, no doubt." Bakura smirked.

Marik gave Bakura an amused side glace. "Maybe a little for old time's sake, but I like my new toy much better when it comes to- _hehe_ \- stroking."

Bakura froze, not sure how to handle the statement. His eyes wandered back to his marks. "Uh … where do we rendezvous after I get the bag?"

"Just run. I'll find you."

Bakura shrugged. He wasn't too concerned. All he had to do was find another plot hole and think himself home if they got separated. Bakura took to the streets, blending into the shadows as best he could with the gawdawful white hoodie. If Marik wanted to dress him up he could have _at least_ picked black so Bakura could do his job. He was still fuming when it was time to pounce on top of the duffle bag like a- SOD!- what Bakura meant was that he was still fuming when it was time to dash between the lower-tiered canon villains, and snatch their duffel bag away from them like the THIEF he was. The amazing, dark, vicious thief who would one day destroy the Pharaoh and everything the Pharaoh ever loved.

Rex and Weevil tried to chase after Bakura, but he cut down a side road and put a good deal of distance between them. Bakura heard a whistle, and he noticed Marik around yet another corner. Bakura dashed right and they ran side-by-side.

"Can they see us?" Marik asked.

Bakura glanced over his shoulder. The other two were nowhere in sight. "Those morons are probably lost by now."

"Good! Follow me!" Marik veered left and Bakura followed him. They jumped over puddles and raced down gleaming, wet concrete until a huge shimmer of blue swirled in front of them.

"See it?" Marik asked, winded from racing beside Bakura.

"Yeah, see you at our flat!"

"Don't you dare jump without me, Florence!" Marik grabbed the sleeve of his hoodie to slow him down. "You're holding my hand!"

Bakura wanted to argue, but when Marik's warm fingers interlocked with his, Bakura's complaints somehow fell behind him, washing down the storm drains with leaves and food wrappers.

"On three!" Marik shouted. "One- Two- Three!"

The jumped together, and everything turned cool and misty, and then there was a sudden burst and they both rolled down the hallways of their flat, crashing against the doorway to Marik's room. Bakura was gasping with laughter.

"We did it!" He screamed. "We did it! We actually managed a real mission without it turning into a circus!" Bakura rolled his eyes, remembering the wet neko hoodie his was wearing. "Well, not a complete circus at least."

"Oh quit complaining, Fluffy, you look adorable."

"I don't _want_ to look adorable."

Marik laughed, slipping out of the wet fur and dropping the glasses onto the floor. "Then you shouldn't smile because it makes your dimples show."

"I have no such thing!" Bakura screamed, holding his cheeks.

Marik grabbed Bakura's hands and lowered them. He took his pointer fingers and poked Bakura near the corners of his mouth. "Here and here. I have pictures."

"Sod off!" Bakura jerked his head away.

"Anyway." Marik reached over and pulled the duffel bag into his lap, pulling the zipper and dumping the contents onto the floor. "Ha! Come to daddy." He grabbed the Rod and held it above his head as he sang. " _Together again! Gee, it's good to be together again! I just can't imagine that you've ever been gone! It's not starting over, it's just going on!_ "

Bakura couldn't handle a complete music piece at that moment. He was in a good mood. The two Items gleamed in the light of their flat andwhatever lost _je ne sais quoi_ that the Manga universe seemed to have lacked for Bakura, the Items possessed. Just being near them, Bakura felt stronger, as if power shimmered through him.

He also felt bold. In order to shut Marik up, Bakura leaned over and cupped Marik's cheeks in both hands. Marik's eyes grew huge and round; his song died the moment Bakura traced his thumbs up Marik's cheeks. Bakura's eyes fluttered shut. He wasn't sure _what_ he was doing, only that he very much wanted to do it. Marik gasped as Bakura caught Marik's bottom lip in a quick kiss.

"Ba-bakur-"

"Shhh," Bakura whispered against Marik's lips.

He closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and reveled in the texture of Marik's lips against his own, and when Marik pressed his tongue into Bakura's mouth, he sighed and moaned.


	4. Chapter 4

It was thirty minutes later, and Bakura was still lost in the feeling of Marik's mouth. He lay with his bare back pressed against the floor, both his hoodie and shirt crumpled in a pile near his head. Marik, also shirtless, lay on top of Bakura. He kept pressing into Bakura's groin and pulling wanton, desperate moans from between Bakura's lips.

When Marik moved down to Bakura's neck and started to bite, Bakura wailed in pleasure, bucking up and then clawing at Marik's belt buckle.

Marik laughed against Bakura's throat, close enough for Bakura to feel the tickle of it on his skin. "What's the rush? We still have five more Items to steal."

"Tomorrow," Bakura growled, finishing with the belt and working on the button to Marik's pants.

"But Bakura-" Marik's breath hitched when Bakura's hand found Marik's erect cock and started to squeeze it. "Aren't you … eager .. for vengence?"

"So eager," Bakura moaned as he kneaded Marik's cock.

"This is why…" Marik moaned himself, tugging at Bakura's hair. "It's dangerous to mix business with pleasure. We shouldn't get distracted like this."

"Can't handle it?" Bakura chuckled, his eyes lidded as he looked at Marik.

Marik looked frustrated, teetering with two different decisions in his mind. Bakura decided he'd help persuade him towards Team "Let's Procrastinate" by sucking hard at Marik's nipple even as he continued to tug at Marik's cock, teasing his head with each upward pull and then slamming his fist back down to the base.

"Fine!" Marik growled in frustration.

It was a beautiful sound to Bakura's ears, hearing Marik give up for once in a fit of sexual frustration. Marik bit Bakura's bottom lip, but his mouth was slick from too much kissing and slipped out from Marik's teeth before he could leave a mark or draw blood.

"At least let's go to the bed." Marik pulled away and kicked his pants to the floor.

Marik's cock bobbed as he walked, and Bakura laughed as he watched before rolling onto his belly and slinking over to Marik's bed on all fours. He climbed up the bed like a … fierce animal of some sort- not a domestic one- a snow leopard- yes, snow leopard ... a hungry and fierce snow leopard in heat.

Marik pulled open his nightstand drawer and winked as he pulled out a bottle of lube.

Bakura purred, arching backwards and enticing Marik onto the bed with an intense stare. Marik responded by jumping on the bed, and shoving Bakura over so that he lay on his back. Marik straddled him, pouring the lube straight from the bottle onto Bakura's cock.

Bakura scrunched up his face as a shiver rioted up his spine. "Marik, that's cold!"

Marik grinned. "I like it cold."

He poured a second round of lube onto his own cock, closing his eyes and sighing when the chill hit his skin. He rubbed the gel over himself before leaning down and grabbing both their cocks together. Bakura sucked in a sharp breath, throwing his head backwards and moaning as Marik started sliding their cocks back and forth.

He rose up on his forearms so he could get a better view of their sliding cocks, watching the light and dark of their skins twitching against each other within Marik's broad hand. Marik's hair hung down, the earlier rain and sweat already starting to mat a few strands together. He was panting, but Bakura was all but screaming, mouth wide and eyelids low. He didn't care; he couldn't care. He sounded desperate, but he couldn't stop because it felt amazing, and he couldn't stop because it felt amazing, and he couldn't stop because it felt amazing, so Bakura screamed louder and clung to the bed sheets.

"Damn Bakura … you sound like … Lassie from the Porky's movie." Marik gasped.

"Don't you dare- stick- gym socks- in- my mouth!" Bakura managed between ragged breaths before deconstructing into another round of shouting.

Marik moved a little faster, making Bakura's screams come quicker and louder. "I won't. I like how you sound too much."

Bakura's voice died. The compliment froze his brain up and forced him to reboot. He struggled to breathe and whimpered for a moment until Marik added a dash more lube to their cocks and squeezed more tightly. Bakura threw his head back for a second time, and his voice built back up to unchained wails.

"Yes," Marik growled near his ear.

Bakura twitched in Marik's hand. He dug his heels into the mattress and raised his hips in his own, slower rhythm. He tried to call out Marik's name, barely managed a long _mmmmm_ and then returned to formless vowels and his cock trembled and he came onto his pale stomach. Bakura felt like he dissolved into the sheets, every single muscle and nerve in his body relaxed and spent beyond use.

"Good kitty," Marik sighed, and Bakura was too drained to think anything of the nickname.

Marik bit his lower lip, staring at Bakura as if he wanted to devour him. Bakura spread his legs a little wider, inviting Marik to succumb to inner temptations. Marik's eyes glazed over at the thought- and Bakura knew exactly what Marik was thinking, he'd had similar thoughts himself for years. Then a flash of focus drove the lilac fog away from Marik's gaze. "Not yet. Not until we've won."

But Bakura felt as if he'd already won, with his lips burning from earlier, and his hair damp from where the rain had drenched it, and a puddle of spunk growing cold on his belly.

"Bakura, touch me."

Bakura woke up a little at the command. A thrill shot through him at Marik asking to be touched. He reach down, shoving Marik's hand aside and replacing it with his own. He tried to keep quiet, but a slight groan escaped him and he started to pump Marik, He was done and he shouldn't get excited, but it was Marik, and he was touching him, and Bakura couldn't imagine wanting to do anything more than _this_.

Marik bucked into Bakura's fist, faster than Bakura could keep up with, but even with off-set rhythms, Marik still clenched Bakura's shoulders and released his own scream as he, too, came. Marik rested on hands and knees, hovering over Bakura, and tickling Bakura's forehead with golden bangs.

"I need to clean up," Bakura muttered, avoiding Marik's sleepy stare.

"Sure." Marik rolled over to his side, dismissing Bakura to leave as if he didn't care.

Bakura ran the shower, only bothering to rinse off. They'd woken up too early and he wanted nothing more than to crash into the solitude of his own bed and pass out for the second part of the day. As Bakura finished blow drying the rainwater out of his hair, he heard Marik's familiar, nasally voice wailing from his bedroom.

"Baaaakurrrrrra~"

"What?" Bakura shouted from the bathroom.

"What? I can't hear you because of the hair dryer!" Marik shouted back.

Bakura opened his mouth to scream again, realized the futility, and turned off the blow dryer, marching into Marik's room with a towel wrapped around his waist. "I said, what."

Marik stood next to the bed with his tanned arms crossed over his delicious chest and an epic pout on his face. "Your wet hair soaked into my bedsheets, Bakura. Everything's damp."

"So? Wash them?"

"That will take hours!" Marik shouted at the ceiling. "How am I supposed to look evil and intimidating without my beauty sleep first?"

Bakura exhaled. He knew where Marik was going with his argument, and as much as he wanted to tell Marik to sleep on the couch, or just get spare sheets from the linen closet, he knew Marik would have an excuse at the ready and shout until Bakura simply gave up.

"Whatever, just hurry up so we can go to sleep."

Marik's face beamed. "What do you mean, Bakura?"

"Drop the act." Bakura turned and went to his own room.

Before he could reach the bed, Marik tackled him and wrapped them together in the bedspread so they had no choice but to lay pressed chest to chest. Marik brushed their noses together. "Since you insisted."

"Yes, I practically begged you to my bed." Bakura rolled his eyes. Bakura winced as something hard jabbed against his thigh. "Marik …"

"Yes, Florence?"

"Did you bring the Rod to bed?"

"Of course!"

"It's poking me, and it's hard to breathe facing each other like this."

"Fine." Marik huffed, untangling them enough to roll Bakura onto his back. Marik rested his head on Bakura's chest and slung his arm across Bakura so that the Rod wasn't poking him. "Better?"

Bakura opened his mouth to suggestion they each sleep on their _own_ side of the bed, but he happened to look down and catch a strange look on Marik's face. Marik _wanted this_. He wanted it as badly as he wanted Bakura's body earlier, although Bakura knew Marik would never _ask_ for it. He was too used to having to manipulate to get anything in his life, and perhaps for a good reason because if he'd just asked, Bakura would have told him no.

Something queasy settled into the bottom of Bakura's stomach. "I … want to go to sleep."

"Sure," Marik muttered into Bakura's chest, closing his eyes that looked neither pleased nor disappointed, as if he'd expected Bakura's response.

Bakura closed his eyes, and with each inhale he felt Marik rise and fall with his breath, and with each inhale he drew more of Marik's scent into his body, the rain bringing out the sweetness of Marik's shampoo- which was really Bakura's shampoo because Marik always stole it.

_L'Oreal, the official, un-official haircare product of YuGiOh The Abridged Series!_

After a few minutes, Bakura found himself combing his fingers through the gold strands because it was both soothing and because it made it even easier to catch a whiff of Marik's hair. Bakura's other hand slid up and down Marik's ribs.

Marik sighed, sinking into Bakura's thin chest. Bakura shifted the Ring so that the tines didn't tangle into Marik's hair before returning to combing it.

"I shouldn't make it so easy for you," Bakura whispered up at the ceiling.

"Hmmm?"

"This. There not really a challenge if I just let you do whatever you want."

Marik chuckled, breath tickling Bakura's bare chest. "Don't blame me. You're the one that kissed me, and you're the one that wanted to wait until tomorrow to steal the next Item."

"Yeah." Bakura couldn't help but laugh. "I'm as stupid as you said I am."

"Well … you're smarter than the Steves, if that helps."

"Not really."

"No? What if I said you were smarter than Yugi?"

Bakura snorted. "That's little comfort."

"Yeah, I suppose that not much more impressive than a Steve, really." Marik let go of the Rod. Instead of holding onto his beloved phallic power symbol, he used his middle and pointer fingers to draw out the subtle contours of Bakura's chest. "What if I told you that … I really like this?"

Bakura's hands slid to Marik's shoulders, squeezing him and bloody hell Bakura did not want to let go. "That makes me feel worse, actually."

"Bakura? You're shaking."

Bakura hid his face in Marik's hair.

Marik shifted so that he could lift Bakura's face up and look at him. "Is it really that hard?"

"If you're so damn smart, _you_ figure it out," Bakura hissed.

Marik dug his fingers into Bakura's hair. He started kissing Bakura's face. The tip of his nose, at first, and then the arch above each eyebrow, and the curve of his cheeks. Bakura closed his eyes, held his breath, and endured the attention. He didn't cry, but he couldn't stop trembling either.

"It's okay," Marik whispered between kisses. "It's okay, it's okay, it's okay. Nothing bad is going to happen to me. I already know, okay? You're not going to watch me die like your family. Nothing bad will happen to me, and I'm going to make damn sure nothing bad will happen to you either."

Bakura's lungs burned with stale breath. He exhaled in short bursts, trying to push the air out without taking new air in. The more Marik whispered, the more he kissed Bakura's face, the harder it was to keep everything shoved inside. The wait became too long and Bakura inhale, gasped, near hyperventilated, but still he wouldn't cry. He hadn't since _that day_. "Shut-up."

Surprisingly, Marik stopped talking, but he didn't stop kissing. He'd moved down to the curve of Bakura's jaw, and the shell of his ear, and the corner of his mouth. Bakura's hands moved from Marik's shoulders, to a full, and proper embrace. He felt Marik's scars below his arms, and the marred, dry skin reminded him of one of his favorite lines of feefshipping.

_This was the closest he was ever going to get to knowing what true love felt like. It was pain. The most beautiful pain he'd ever known, and it was theirs alone to share._

That was canon, too, in a way. At least, Littlekuriboh wrote it so there had to be a universe out there where that world was real. Bakura wondered if they should perhaps skip their quest for the Items and _find_ that universe. Steal a glance at their fanfic twins, see how their story worked out after the word count stopped.

Marik curled against Bakura's neck, fingers still lost in Bakura's hair. "It's going to be okay," Marik whispered into the nape of Bakura's neck. "I don't care how many other universes I have to destroy to fix this one."

The last bit sounded odd to Bakura, but he was already falling asleep, so he pushed the comment aside with every other ridiculous thing Marik had ever said. He woke up hours later to Marik shaking his chest.

"Bakura. Bakura. Bakura!"

"What?" Bakura batted Marik away. "Five more minutes."

"Bakura, I'm starving."

"Okay, get the toaster out and I'll make breakfast."

"It's dinner time, Bakura. I want tacos."

Bakura scratched his scalp, trying to wake up. Waking up had been strange since that day, each time he did it he shuddered with pleasant memories and he was afraid he was already getting addicted. "Tacos are good."

"Let me take a quick shower and we'll go get some!" Marik jumped out of bed. "You better be dressed by the time I'm out!"

"Okay," Bakura said, rolling over and going straight back to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

They sat in the restaurant with a huge platter of tacos in front of them.

"And then, this one time, I let all the Steves play Pin The Puzzle On The Pharaoh, and they kept pinning it on his face. It was hilarious, Bakura, you should have seen it. You would have loved it when they stuck the pin right through his eye!"

A little grin did sneak onto Bakura's face, but the anecdote made Bakura think of the Steve with the Macy's bag. "Now wait." Bakura looked up from his plate of tacos. "You controlled the Steves with the Rod, correct?"

"Of course."

"Then how were you controlling them after you gave your original Rod to Yugi, but before getting-"

Marik jumped to his feet and stretched across the table, slapping his palm across Bakura's mouth. "Quiet," Marik snapped. "I never bothered mentioning to them that I no longer controlled them, so they kept on doing whatever I said." Marik sat back down and put a shushing finger to his lips. "Just roll with it. The less they know, the better for them anyways."

"Pfffft." Bakura snorted, going back to his tacos. "You would."

"I _did_." He looked victorious, biting into a taco. "And it worked." He shrugged. "I could use my new Rod on them now, but why bother if they're still listening to me?"

They finished eating. Marik did a better share of the talking, but Bakura didn't mind. As they walked back towards what Marik insisted was their _evil lair,_ he glanced at Bakura. "So you have the Eye, right?"

Bakura nodded. He kept it in a hidden compartment in Ryou's dresser in a trap-rigged box. Although, technically, Pegasus still had it during the Evil Council videos … Bakura was never sure exactly how all that worked out, and sometimes it was better not to think too hard on it.

"So you'd know where you'd hide it in a different dimension, right?"

"Probably in the same place? Why not steal it from Pegasus again?"

"I doubt it'd be as easy in canon as it was here. I mean, from the sound effects it seems like you just popped it out and called it a day- you didn't even manage to grab the right eye the first time. Seriously, Bakura, how did you eff that up? It was the gold one!"

"It was part of the skit, Marik."

"Whatever, in canon there was blood everywhere." Marik made a face. "Blood stains are a bitch to wash out of silk. Let's stick to my Evil Genius™ plan instead."

Stealing from himself felt like a dick move, like he was violating the _don't steal from the guild_ rule, but as Marik pointed out, they could return the Items at anytime, so it was more like a thiefy borrowing than true stealing which didn't sound as bad. It felt odd, having a real plan to implement. Bakura reached over and pinched Marik's arm.

"Ow, you friggn' jerk!" Marik slapped Bakura's hand, scowling and rubbing his arms. "Why'd you do that?"

"Just making sure that you're real."

"Yes, I'm real. Get over it. It's not _that_ surprising that I'm not a complete idiot."

"Yes it is. I'm surprised I didn't have a heart attack. I'm still waiting to wake up and realize this is all a dream."

"Can you taste things in a dream?"

Bakura thought about it, shaking his head no. "I never have before."

Marik slammed Bakura against a near-by car parked at the curb. The alarm started wailing, but Marik paid it no mind. He slid his tongue into Bakura's mouth, gliding it up and down Bakura's tongue. They each tasted like tacos, and it was a little gross, but Bakura still moaned and melted into the kiss.

Marik broke the kiss by pinching Bakura's arm. He yelped in surprise, rubbing the stinging spot on his bicep.

"Could you taste that?"

Bakura smirked, pushing himself away from the car. It still shrieked in alarm, but no one had done anything to check on it yet. "Perhaps cut the onions next time if you're going to kiss afterward."

"You didn't exactly taste like a tic tac, you know."

They walked away, ignoring the car and the howling dogs protesting the alarm. Marik's fingers laced with Bakura's again. There was no portal, but Bakura didn't push him away, _couldn't_ for some reason, and when the got back to their flat and Marik sat down, patting the couch beside him, Bakura couldn't resist sitting next to Marik. They watched Adult Swim programs until they were both yawning, and when Marik started grumbling about how the sheets would still be wet, Bakura only smiled and didn't protest when Marik crawled into bed with him.

"We got two Items, cuddled, and went on a date. What a successful day, Bakura!"

"Whoopie. Can't wait to see what happens tomorrow." And, although he was loathe to admit it, the statement hadn't been as sarcastic as Bakura's tone suggested.

Bakura woke up to a delicious smell. He groaned, and stretched, and checked the clock beside his bed. It was ten a.m. and Bakura wondered why Marik hadn't woken him up with a song and a box of frozen pastries smashed upside his head. Bakura pushed up, deciding to investigate what smelled so delicious. His teeth felt like a coat of fur had grown over them the night before, so he stopped in the bathroom to freshen up before stumbling his way into the kitchen.

Bakura blinked. Marik was in front of the stove, a frilly lavender apron protected his usual attire. He didn't notice Bakura and he was singing at the top of his lungs.

" _I know some things that you don't. I've done things that you won't. There's nothing like a trail of blood to find your way back home. I was waiting for my hearse. What came next was so much worse. It took a funeral to me me feel alive~! Just open your eyes~_! _Just open your eyes and see_ \- Bakura! What the frig, man! Don't stand there like a pervert watching me!"

Bakura chuckled, partly because of the blush on Marik face and partly because his apron said "Kiss the Evil Genius Cook" in pink sequins.

"Nice apron," Bakura said.

"Custom made." Marik snorted, turning off the heat and putting the last of the food onto a plate. He glanced over his shoulder, nervous. "Look, don't make a big deal out of this, okay?"

Bakura raised an eyebrow, curious about what was on the plate.

"It's just that … I know it's not easy for you to, you know, care and stuff, and … whatever, just don't expect this all the time. It's just that- because you see breakfast _is_ the most evil meal of the day, and I want to make sure our plan goes well, that's all!" Marik set the plate on the table.

Bakura crept up to it, sitting down and licking his lips when he realized that the plate was loaded with two over-easy eggs and a huge t-bone steak. He glanced up at Marik, wanted to say thank you, wanting to tell him that no one had cooked for him since his mother died, but there were no words, none, so he tried to express himself with the look in his eyes, and with the way he dug into the food as if he hadn't eaten in days.

"Geez Bakura, do you eat everything like you're murdering it?" Marik poured a cup of tea and set it next to Bakura's plate, and if Bakura didn't have his heart set on seeing the Pharaoh's ruin, he would have let his heart stop right then and there so he could die happy.

Marik still ate Toaster Strudels for breakfast, but he made them himself for once. After the breakfast, Bakura licked his lips, and sucked the grease from his fingers, and then wiped his mouth and brushed the hair out of his face. Marik started laughing, hard enough to hold his stomach.

"What?" Bakura growled, feeling foolish somehow.

"You're grooming."

"Am not!"

"Yes. You just were. You totally were. Cat!Kura confirmed!"

Bakura stood up, frowning. "I'm going to take a shower like a human."

Marik started laughing harder.

"I meant because I _am_ a human!"

"Sure, sure, Kitty, whatever you say."

They got ready, fortunately Marik already had his makeup on or they would have never made it out the door before noon. They passed by a few plot holes that were in odd places they couldn't reach, and went back to the one from the day before. Bakura took Marik's hand before they could argue, and Marik laughed again.

"Bollocks." Bakura clenched his teeth. "You _were_ playing me for a fool yesterday, weren't you?"

"Maybe." Marik snickered, pulling Bakura through the plot hole. It was night and raining like the last time they visited, but instead of outside in the streets, they were in the bedroom of his host's flat.

"Here we are. The real you is out, watching Rex and Weevil steal Yugi's things," Marik said. "You keep it here, right?"

Bakura nodded. He walked over to the dresser and pulled out the top drawer. Afterward he removed a false back and set it on top of his landlord's socks. For a moment he wondered why there wasn't Deathshipping doujinshi poking out from the piles of socks, but then he remembered that they were in another world, one where the characters didn't have access to things beyond the fourth wall. A blessing, really, Bakura had seen some shit on the internet.

There was also a lack of lube, anal beads, and Thiefshipping doujinshi in his own hidden compartment, but the locked box was there, and Bakura pulled it from the cubby. "Here."

" _That's_ the Eye? When I went through your things I thought it was another sex toy!"

Bakura focused on unlocking the box. It didn't have a keyhole. It was a puzzle box where the wrong move set off various traps, a squirt of acid, a hidden blade, a spark that would blind any would-be thieves less skilled than Bakura himself. He was proud of the box that he had made with his host's craft supplies.

"What were you doing? Rummaging through my comic collection?"

"You know I'm a connoisseur of good art." Marik huffed.

"Indeed." Bakura gave the box a final twist. There was a click, and then the wooden sections opened up like a lotus blooming on top the Nile. "Here we are. The Eye."

"Yes! Excellent!" Marik plucked the eye from its velvet bed and stuck it in his pocket. "Come, Bakura! Let us return home and celebrate our victory!"

"Celebrate, eh?" Bakura returned everything to its proper place so his other self wouldn't suspect anyone had gone through his things. "Are we going to celebrate like we did yesterday?"

"Foolish fool, we'll have an even better celebration! With frosted animal cookies and ice cream."

Bakura face-palmed, praying that Marik was teasing him. He still couldn't always tell. Their trip home was uneventful, almost a disappointment. It didn't seem like it should be so easy to steal an instrument of such great, dark power. It wasn't until they returned to their flat until they noticed anything strange. Like the other two canon Items, the Eye gave off an aura of sheer power, but as soon as they walked into their living room, that power seemed to pulse, to breathe, to force their own breaths and heartbeats to match up to the throbbing energy.

"Marik?" Bakura asked.

"Yeah, I feel it too." Marik marched towards Bakura's bedroom as if he had a specific suspicion of what was causing the problem, and he must have been right, because as soon as they crossed the threshold, Bakura's head pounded, and he wanted to scream.

"I was afraid of this." Marik shook his head.

"What?"

"We have two Eyes close together. We're creating a paradox- timey wimey spacey wacey and all that scientific jargon."

Bakura stumbled to the drawer, his head splitting from the struggling reality. He started to pull out the dresser, getting to his box as quickly as possible. "We don't need a copy. Let's get rid of this one and keep the stronger version."

"No yet!" Marik shouted, as if the distortion somehow compromised their hearing. It didn't; Marik simply sounded very loud. "I want to see what happens if when get them even closer."

"What on bloody earth would we do that?"

"Because," Marik said, pulling the canon Eye from his pocket. "We can't just toss the extra Ring out the window- you're kinda attached to it."

Bakura paused a moment, looking at Marik. Then he remembered his puzzle box was timed, and he had to focus. "That's one of your more valid points."

The box clicked open and Bakura grabbed the Eye. As soon as he lifted it out of the box, he jerked towards Marik. Marik jumped back. "Slow it down, Bakura, don't glomp me."

"I can't-" Bakura lurched forward again.

Marik started backing up. "Never mind. Put it back in the box."

Bakura tried dragging himself backwards, but it was like playing tug-o-war against a super saiyan. His arm was outstretched against his will and he was dragging forward no matter how hard he dug his feet into the carpet. With a grunt, Bakura lost control, his body flinging against Marik. They crashed together against the opposite wall. Their hands smacked together, like a possessed high-five. A flash blinded them, and when the dark spots faded from Bakura's vision, he realized that there was only one Eye and all the wibbly wobbly timey wimey spacey wacey stuff was over, as if it never happened.

"Oh bollocks," Marik cursed. "That was _not_ according to keikaku."

"Can we fix it?" Bakura asked, feeling like a fool.

"I … don't know? Maybe not? I-I don't know. Fuck!"

"Okay, no big deal, right?" Bakura shrugged, his indifference the closest he could manage toward optimism. "Our plans foul up all the time. Let's just think this through."

"No, no our plans _do not_ foul up. I just make them _look_ that way. This…" Marik clenched his teeth, complexion flushing in anger. "This is _not_ supposed to happen like this."

"Marik, it's fine."

"No, it's _not_ fine! This is my ultimate Evil Genius™ plan! I _need_ this to work, Bakura. I _promised_ -"

Bakura pecked Marik's forehead with his lips.

"What the Eff? Why'd you do that, Bakura?"

Bakura shrugged, pulling the combined Eye out of Marik's hand in hopes that it would calm him down. "I don't know … you were getting upset."

"Of course I was." Marik frowned, but his face was calmer.

Bakura looked down at the Eye in his hand. "The veins were starting to pop out in your forehead."

Marik looked away. "Oh."

"I think you're fine now."

Marik closed his eyes, inhaling. "Yeah, thanks." He exhaled. "Okay. Let's think about this. I was going to get the Ring next, swipe it at Battle City after we lost to Melvin- or Mariku- Or Yami Marik- or Kek- Or Leon- or whatever the fuck the fangirls named him this week, but we should steal it last now to give us time to think of what to do. Which means I have to think of the next best time."

"It's not like we have to be chronological," Bakura said, rolling the Eye in his palm. It near hummed with power, but the feeling was pleasant again, like the previous day, and not the existence-rending whirlpool they'd experienced moments before. "We can go back to Battle City whenever we want, right?"

Marik winced. "Yyyyeah, not exactly. What do you think happens when Yugi loses two Items and the canon you can't understand how they were stolen out from under his nose? And then he goes back and realizes the Eye is gone too?"

Bakura's jaw dropped. "I thought you said if the canon verse gets destroyed that-"

"It'll be fine!" Marik snapped, flinging his arms up into the air and starting to pace. "At least … _mostly_ fine. As long as we steal everything in reverse order, and then put everything back in the proper order, then- technically- it never happened, right?" Marik looked sheepish. "Now it's possible that we might have created an alternate canon universe were the Items mysteriously disappeared and everyone's stuck to deal with the consequences on their own but that was a risk I was willing to take."

"A little irresponsible, don't you think?"

"It's only a possibility that another universe gets created. It's just as likely that the time stream just ignores us borrowing the Items as long as we put them back in a timely manner. This is the Measurement Problem strung out into a multiverse scenario, Bakura, I can't account for _every_ variable. There was always potential risks- I took them."

Bakura flashed the Eye. "So what do we do when it's time to put back everything and we're short an Eye?"

Marik flung his hands in the air again, letting them fall to his sides. "Do we really _need_ an Eye in this universe?"

Bakura stared at it, shrugging. "So what do we do now? Skip the Ring and go for the next Item?"

Marik tugged at his hair, still pacing. "I don't know … I need to think."

He marched out of Bakura's room and towards his own. Bakura plopped down on the bed. He should have been happy, to finally have his bed to himself again, but he felt strangely alone without Marik curled up beside him.


	6. Chapter 6

After a few hours Bakura decided to pick up some kedahs for lunch- which were now an actual thing because Marik had commanded several Steves to open up a kedah stand near their flat. It was rather nice since they got free food from it and the excess profits went towards paying for some of Marik's more ridiculous schemes.

When Bakura returned with two bags of food, he saw Marik pacing in the living room and muttering. "I can salvage this. I can make this work. I'll find a way. I'll save- Bakura!" He shouted, breaking into a trickster's smile. "I was just thinking about disguises for our next mission. They need to be fabulous. Something that will raise morale, you know?"

"Yes, I'm sure it'll take weeks to wash the glitter from our hair once you're done with us," Bakura replied, although he knew by now that Marik was faking the cheery attitude. He held out one of the two bags of food.

Marik stared at it. "You got lunch?"

Bakura nodded.

Marik gave Bakura a sad smile. "Bakura, you're amazing."

Bakura snorted. "Careful, we start getting along too well and the fangirls won't ship us. I think our arguments are half the appeal."

Marik wasn't listening. He was scarfing down his lunch with a happy look on his face. After lunch, Bakura talked Marik into playing Skyrim. Bakura liked watching that one more than some of the others because of the thieves' guild and the dark brotherhood. When he finished, Bakura somehow ended up laying in Marik's lap, getting his hair pet.

"Did you figure out what to do next?" Bakura asked, careful with his tone in an attempt not to agitate Marik again.

Marik gave a heavy sigh, far more grave than any sound Marik had a right to make. "We'll skip the Ring for now and go on with the plan otherwise … I'll think of something."

Bakura made a purring sound, flipping over on his stomach and teasing his fingers up and down Marik's thighs. "They say it's easier to get inspired when you're relaxed."

"Yeah? What did you have in mind?"

Bakura slipped off the couch, dropping to his knees and looking up at Marik for permission even as his fingers lingered on the tab of Marik's zipper.

Marik flushed, but this time it wasn't from anger. He nodded and Bakura's fingers moved quick and nimble, pulling down the zipper, undoing Marik's belt, stripping him of his pants until they pooled around his ankles. Bakura dragged his nails down Marik's thighs. He kept the pressure light, not wanting to break Marik's skin. Marik shivered visibly and his cock began to grow plump as Bakura kept toying with Marik's skin. He kissed above Marik's knees, working his way up higher. He ignored Marik's swelling cock and kissed up his bronze-sculpted abs, and then back down.

"Hold on," Bakura whispered, jumping up and running towards the kitchen. He snatched an ice cube tray from the freezer and raced back to Marik on the sofa.

Marik's eyes glittered when he saw Bakura pop an ice cube out of the tray and into his palm. Bakura smirked, taking the ice cube between his lips and leaning down to Marik's chest. Holding the chunk of ice in his mouth, he pressed the ice cube against Marik's right nipple and circled. Marik arched his chest up and out, pressing harder into the ice. His cheeks grew ruddy, he bit his lower lip, and a irresistible whine of pleasure escaped through his mouth.

Bakura undid the top of his own pants, his erection already too tight to be comfortable. Even in his most lurid fantasies he never imagined Marik so undone, and they'd only started. Bakura used his mouth to drag the ice over to Marik's left nipple, repeating the process while Marik repeated his response.

"Bakura!"

Bakura lowered down again. He'd spent so many days and nights worshipping Marik's abs from afar, and now he was tracing them over with ice and enjoying the way little streams of water trailed down each lovely brown section.

Marik's hands tugged at Bakura's hair. That seemed to be as much a thing for Marik as the ice, but Bakura wasn't about to complain. The rough treatment went straight to his cock,and he wished their places were reversed because the thought of Marik's warm mouth around Bakura's length made him moan even as he grabbed another ice cube.

Between his mouth and Marik's body heat, the ice melted quickly. Bakura used his cold mouth to drop down on Marik's cock, rubbing his cold tongue up and down Marik's shaft. Marik let go of Bakura's hair in order to grab the sofa cushions. He writhed in place, hitching up deeper into Bakura's mouth. He slung one copper leg across Bakura's shoulder, planting his other foot on the floor for leverage. Bakura kept his mouth going until the chill wore away, and then he untangled Marik from his shoulder in order to fetch another ice cube from the tray.

Bakura pulled Marik further to the edge of the couch, brown ass hanging off the side. Spreading Marik's legs wide, Bakura traced the tip of his ice cube along the rim of Marik's asshole.

Marik's pleasure was like a song, shrill, and clear, and a little off-key. His hair hung in his face, but Marik didn't bother to brush it away; he was too busy singing out in ecstasy with each stab of ice against his asshole. Marik shivered and shivered and if desire alone could make a man come Bakura would have shampooed the entire carpet.

After the second piece of ice melted Bakura couldn't wait any longer. He took Marik into his mouth once again, slipping his lips down to Marik's base and only pulling up halfway before dropping down again. Bakura held the bottom of Marik's shaft with one hand, and used the other to try and hold Marik down. It didn't really work- despite the pressure of Bakura's hand, Marik continued to buck and writhe, offsetting Bakura's rhythm and making it more difficult for Bakura to bob his head, but it didn't matter. After a few minutes Marik's body twisted in orgasm, and Bakura rode it out with Marik, swallowing what he could.

Afterward Bakura sat back, wiping the corner of his mouth and looking up at Marik whose hair was a disaster of unbrushed gold. Marik's gaze was such searing lavender that Bakura didn't think he'd survive it, especially when Marik slipped off of the couch, pulled off Bakura's shirt, and then pressed him into the carpet.

Bakura moaned. He wasn't even being touched yet beside Marik's hands pressing into his chest, but he still moaned from sheer anticipation. Marik reached over to the ice tray, pulling a half melted cube from a puddle of water. Bakura winced, not wanting the cold shock that he knew was about to hit his skin, but when Marik began to slide the ice around his body, Bakura arched up and called out as if it were what he'd wanted all along. He hadn't realized how much his skin was burning until the contrast of ice kissed his body. Marik was diligent and meticulous with how he teased Bakura, ensuring he chilled each pulse point and each contour where Bakura was more sensitive.

Bakura felt Marik rolling his pants down his legs and using another ice cube to torture Bakura's inner thighs. Bakura started to shiver, his nipples rigid well before Marik started to tease them with the ice. Then the ice was gone, forgotten, and Marik's hot tongue was warming all the cold inches of flesh on Bakura's body. He lavished Bakura's neck with heated bites, sucked his nipples until they were hard from arousal only instead of cold, and kneaded his lips against Bakura's wrists and the insides of his elbows where Marik's touch almost tickled because it was so sensitive. Then he was travelling down, down, down, chest, stomach, groin.

Bakura thought he might pass out. The G-force of Marik's attention was too strong to keep the blood in Bakura's brain. He grabbed his own thighs, digging nails into pale flesh, using the lick of pain to remind him that everything happening to him was real and not a hallucination- that kisses didn't taste like tacos in a dream.

Marik licked Bakura's balls, cradling each testicle with his tongue, and Bakura sank his nails deeper into his skin because _nothing_ had ever felt that good before and he needed the discomfort of his skin breaking beneath his nails in order to cope with the euphoria. He scratched up, but the scored marks only managed to make Bakura shiver in ecstasy.

Marik finally kissed his way up Bakura's cock, and Bakura bit down on his hand in a vain attempt to stifle the needy, desperate whines coming from his mouth. The _heat_. The sheer fucking heat and wetness of Marik's mouth was enough to drive Bakura mad, thoroughly and completely mad. He was rather sure he must be mad at that point because _nothing this good could be real_.

But it was real, and Bakura knew for sure it was real because Marik's cell phone chose that moment to start blaring _La Cucaracha_ into the living room.

Marik's mouth disappeared from Bakura's cock, leaving Bakura breathless and desperate and still quite mad.

"Can't they do anything on their own," Marik growled, rummaging through his pants' pockets as if he were attacking them. "I should use the Rod to get some _competent_ fucking henchmen." He pulled a gold-plated cell out of his pocket and shouted _what_ into it. Marik listened for a moment, then rolled his eyes like he was sick of the world. "Yes it's necessary, that's why I told you to do it. No you can't just-"

Bakura started to laugh at the ceiling, his patent, sexy British villain laugh. Yes, the moment had indeed been real because now it was ruined and Marik would go off on some fool's errand and leave Bakura alone to jerk off to half-formed fantasies of Marik like he had so many nights before. It was a relief, in a way, that nothing ever turned out. Bakura even reached for his cock as if to get started, but Marik smacked Bakura's hand away as he continued to grouse into the phone.

"Holy frig I'll do it myself- meet me there in an hour- and don't be friggin late!" Marik jabbed at the screen and tossed the phone on top of his pants as if it were too hot to hold. He turned to Bakura with an agitated look on his face. "And what did you think you were doing?"

Bakura shrugged, the possessive, irate way Marik looked at him made Bakura's stomach flutter in a very nice way.

Marik responded with a dry, irritated huff. "I'm not finished with you yet." Marik slipped a throw cushion beneath Bakura's hips to raise them, and then dropped back down, and this time Bakura had no choice but to accept the truth of Marik's perfect mouth- that annoying, always getting them into trouble, never giving Bakura a moment's rest, _fucking perfect_ mouth- sucking at his cock with a ferocity that suggested that Marik was enjoying the moment as much as Bakura.

Bakura screamed. No amount of shoving his fingers into his own mouth, or biting his arm, or even holding his breath could muffle the screams he made. Bakura was in a sort of Heaven that was never supposed to exist for wretches like him, and everything in that moment was perfect. The slight graze of teeth against the too sensitive head of his cock? Perfect. The tickle of spit trickling down his perineum as Marik continued to bob his head up and down? Perfect. The way the carpet irritated the skin of his host's sensitive ass? Perfect. The way his thighs clenched, heart raced, and cock throbbed as his orgasm overcame him? Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Oh god fucking yesssssss- perfect!

Marik crashed onto Bakura's chest with graceless intention. "You scream like a slut," Marik whispered, a content sigh leaving his mouth with the words.

Bakura was too hazy and dreamy and- god forbid- _happy_ to put up with Marik's antics at that moment, so he only gave Marik a sleepy grin while muttering, "You like it."

Marik hummed, trying to sound neutral, but Bakura knew better.

"You like it," he repeated, feeling like he deserved to hear the confession after everything Marik had ever put Bakura through. Every rant about being straight, every Evil Council, every night when Marik tricked Bakura into thinking he was an idiot, Bakura deserved a taste of the truth.

Marik was chuckling to himself, peppering Bakura's chest with sleepy, doting little kisses. "I like it," he agreed, and Bakura relaxed into the carpet when he heard Marik say it. Marik sighed, this time wistful and longing. "I have to go."

"I know."

"It's imperative to our Evil Genius™ plan."

And Bakura smiled because he'd called it _our plan_ , although it wasn't. It was Marik's, and like all of Marik's plans Bakura was going along for the ride because he didn't really know what to do with himself when he wasn't keeping an eye on his damn idiot- who wasn't an idiot after all, but still needed looking after, maybe more so now that Bakura knew he _wasn't_ stupid.

"It'll be nice to have a few hours of peace and quiet around here," Bakura said, trying to dampen the sting of Marik's departure, a sting that he shouldn't even be able to feel.

Marik rolled to his side, shifting to his knees and gathering his clothes. "Liar."

Bakura only smirked at him, watching Marik dress and leave with a sting in his heart that he shouldn't have felt. He bet his canon counterpart never felt an ache in his dark soul when Marik handed over the Ring and walked away, and Bakura knew that he was a pathetic, disgraceful excuse of a Bakura but their world was for humor and Bakura was the obligatory "kid punches man in nuts" clip in a Fail Compilation video on YouTube.

So he showered, and dressed, and re-arranged his host's figurine collection to piss him off later, and watched so much nothing on TV, and re-read _Trial by Shadow_ , and pretended like he wasn't waiting for Marik to get home.

Which didn't happen until after midnight. Bakura had to resist the urge to jump up from the couch when the door opened and a exhausted, frustrated Marik walked in looking worn and cranky.

"Rough night?" Bakura asked.

"Bakura?" Marik blinked, looking a little surprised. "I didn't expect you to wait up."

Bakura dropped his head down, staring at his phone screen to avoid eye contact. "I'm up this late all the time."

Marik chuckled. "You look exhausted."

That was true. The absence of a nap after fooling around had Bakura drained. His host probably could have taken over had he any inclination to try, but Ryou had been holed up in his Soul Room ever since the end of Season 3. Bakura wasn't sure what he was doing, and didn't really care enough to ask.

"Maybe a little," Bakura muttered, trying to change the topic, "but I figured I should wait until you came back so you could brief me on what we're doing tomorrow."

Marik crashed on the couch, slinging his legs over the arm of the sofa and using Bakura's lap as a pillow. "That's actually a good idea. Tomorrow we're going mug Shadi and steal the Puzzle from the museum."

"Museum?"

"Dammit, Bakura, haven't you read the manga?"

Bakura shrugged. He'd skimmed through a few scans on the internet- of the parts with him and Marik- but the translation was in clipped Engrish and Bakura had sort of given up and read _Playing Card Games Is Just Like Making Love_ instead. A slight shiver tickled his spine as he remembered Chapter 10.

Marik rolled his eyes, and then continued. "There's an issue where Yugi donates his Puzzle to be part of an Egyptian display for one day, and that's the same day he meets Shadi- which means, if we play our cards right, we can get three Items at once."

"Mug Shadi and then steal the Puzzle from its display?"

"Precisely."

Bakura smiled, hands absently going to Marik's temples and massaging them to alleviate the stressed look on Marik's face.

"That part should be easy- you're competent, unlike the Steves. They're like children. They can't even blow their noses without being supervised, and the worst of it is that they're trying to do a good job." Marik slapped a hand over his eyes as if he couldn't bear to look at the world anymore. "Why is everybody so damn stupid?"

Bakura couldn't help but laugh. _That_ coming from _Marik_ was a little too ironic for Bakura to suppress the shaking in his belly and chest.

"Yeah, ha, ha, next time _you_ can case the museum and set up the traps we'll need to make sure everything goes smoothly without us getting caught."

"You have the Rod, again. A better one."

"Yeah, but I'd rather not use it unless I have to. Remember, the more discreet we are about this, the less gets changed, and the less that gets changed, the easier it will be to put everything back together when we're done."

"Good point …" Bakura stared at the ceiling for a moment and then back at Marik. Both of them were having trouble keeping their eyes opened. "Let's go to bed."

Marik frowned. "Don't want to get up. Too comfy."

Bakura grinned before he stood up, forcing Marik's head to bounce against the sofa seat. "You dumb jerk!" Marik shouted at the ceiling.

Bakura just chuckled, scooping Marik up into his arms and carrying him towards the hallway.

"Where are you taking me? Put me down! Bad kitty!"

"Calm down, Marik. I'm taking you to bed."

Marik pouted. "Which bed?"

Bakura's laughter simmered down to its original grin. "Which bed would you like?"

A bashful look swept across Marik's face, and Bakura swore that it wasn't endearing. It wasn't! Not at all! His heart was thumping because Marik was heavy, and for no other reason!

But the look remained on Marik's face and Bakura's heart continued to twitter regardless of the reason. Marik caught a lock of Bakura's white hair and twirled it around his finger before giving an answer. "Yours."


	7. Chapter 7

The night had been calm and warm, limbs wrapping around Bakura and squeezing, the soft noise of another life breathing beside him, but the morning was the usual chaos. Marik woke Bakura up with improv singing and Bakura's face got smacked by a box of frozen pastries, and Bakura stumbled to the kitchen and grabbed the toaster and tea kettle. Marik's fit of singing didn't end when he sat down for breakfast.

" _Kura are you okay, are you okay, are you okay, Kura?_

_Kura are you okay, are you okay, are okay, Kura?_

_Kura are you okay, are you okay, are you okay, Kura?_

_You've been sucked by- you've been love-struck by- a smooth criminal!"_

Bakura sputtered into his teacup, not expecting the change in lyrics. Marik flashed him a playful smile, but a moment later the same smile turned mischievous. "By the way, you are going to _love_ our costumes, Bakura."

Bakura finished his tea and rinsed the cup. "Sure I will."

"I really think bright red will look good on you."

Bakura grinned. "I used to wear a bright red cloak when I had my own body."

Marik scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, well … this won't be exactly like that, but don't worry. You'll look great! Let's go change!"

To give Bakura some credit, although he ended up putting the ridiculous thing on, he did argue with Marik for three solid hours _before_ putting it on, and then he argued for another two about whether they'd say the lines or not. Bakura even turned down a blow job- he was going to stick to his principles, not back down, not look like a fool, not-

They had to break for lunch between arguments, and Marik eventually wore Bakura down, like he always did, so Bakura found himself, well over five hours later, in a museum in an alternate dimension, wearing a red wig, stuffed bra, mini-skirt, and black, thigh high boots. Okay, okay, it was true- his legs _did_ look amazing in the boots- Marik had been right about that, but Bakura still didn't see why he had to be Jesse. Marik was the one always trying to flaunt his abs around, why wasn't _he_ Jesse?

His only consolation to the entire fiasco was that he was going to get to punch that bleeding wanker Shadi square in the jaw, and he was ready, too. Hours of arguing with Marik had Bakura salty and furious and ready to knock someone the fuck out, so why not that asshole?

Marik had somehow gathered what he was calling _an army of Mr. Tweetums_ , and they were now flying rampant in the halls, distracting everyone for Phase I. Bakura slipped past a group of children screaming in delight at the chaos and continued to the Egyptian exhibit where a lone man in a turban and robe stood and stared at the mummified pharaoh's corpse- Bakura wished he could have punched _that_ as well, but he'd settle for Shadi. He tapped Shadi's shoulder and cold cocked him when Shadi turned. At the same moment that Bakura was looting the Items off of Shadi's body, a fire alarm went off, sending everyone in the other rooms screaming towards the exit. It was now time for Phase II of their plan. Bakura grit his teeth. Waiting …

He didn't have to wait long, Marik's footsteps echoed in the emptying museum halls. Marik ran into the room, crashing down on his knees. He slid across the polished floor, arms flung into the air, long stemmed rose clenched between his teeth.

Bakura sighed.

Marik looked at Bakura expectedly, and a few strands of hair from his lavender wig fell into his eyes.

Bakura crossed his arms over his stuffed chest and scowled.

Marik hissed Bakura's name through the rose-stem.

"No one's here except the bloke passed out on the floor," Bakura hissed back. He wasn't sure why he was whispering when no one was there.

"Don't be a kill-joy, Fluffy."

"Can't we just steal the damn-"

"Kill. Joy."

"Fine!" Bakura smacked his forehead. "Prepare for bloody trouble-"

"Don't make it British!"

Bakura clenched his teeth. "Prepare for trouble."

Marik jumped to his feet, leaning toward Bakura and holding the rose. "And make it double!"

Bakura stared at the ceiling, his tone flat. "To protect the world-"

"Emote, Jesse!"

Bakura growled at the name, but figured there was only one way out of the bloody museum, so he cleared his throat and repeated the line. "To protect the world from devastation!"

"To unite all peoples within our nation!"

"To denounce the evils of truth and love!"

To extend our reach to the stars above!

"Jessie!"

"Kay, I'm bored now." Marik used the head of the Rod to smash through the glass of the display case holding the Puzzle and grabbed the Item. The wail of the fire alarm hid the wail of the security alarm. Bakura hated to admit that Marik's plan, short of the cosplay, was solid. "Let's go home and order takeout for dinner."

"You didn't finish it!" Bakura screamed over the alarms.

"Well, you were right. There's nobody here to see our incredible acting, so I don't really see the point."

"Yes, but … but, you can't simply _not_ finish once you've started."

Marik shrugged. "I mean … I just did."

"Dammit, you made me say all of that, the least you could do is-"

Marik tickled Bakura's nose with the rose. "Seeing you like this is really cute, Bakura, but I literally set this museum on fire, and we should probably flee now."

"YOU WHAT!?" Bakura ran to the hall and noticed smoke curling around the ceiling.

"Yeah, my bad. I only meant to start a small one to get the alarm to go off, but that wasn't working well so I just started torching everything."

"Having a Melvin day, are we?" Bakura turned over his shoulder.

"As soon as the smoke hits this room, the sprinklers are going off, so unless you want to turn this into a wet t-shirt contest …"

Bakura groaned. He wasn't OCD by any means, but the thought of not finishing what he started still bothered him. He swallowed his complaints and followed Marik through a back emergency exit. He expected for them to exit the building, but Marik grabbed Bakura's hand, holding the rose between their fingers, and pulled him up the stairs.

"Where are we going?"

"Just trust me- this will be fun!"

Bakrua hated the fact that he _was_ starting to trust Marik when it came to their heists. They were in possession of six of seven Items now, or at least they would be if they managed to escape, and that was better than Bakura could have managed on his own in such a short time.

The stairs were no big deal for the first two flights. The third set was annoying, but tolerable, but by the time they managed to break onto the roof, Bakura's calves were screaming. The boots had much too high of a heel for this nonsense, and his thighs were sweating from the skirt- bugger being a woman.

"Okay. Catch your breath, Bakura, and get ready."

"Ready … for what?"

"Our big scene." Marik grinned, fluffing the hair of his wig. "And do it with emotion this time! Now we'll have an audience!"

"What the bloody hell are you talking about, Marik?"

Marik grabbed his hand again, and pulled him up to the edge of the roof. Down below people scurried about like ants, fire trucks surrounded the building and a spot light appeared from _somewhere_ (Bakura really didn't bloody know), and managed to hit them like they were on a stage instead of a rooftop.

"Really?" Bakura whispered in Marik's ear.

"Do-it-do-it-do-it-do-it-do-it!" Marik whispered back in an excited voice.

Bakura had no choice really. It'd make Marik too happy for him to resist. "Prepare for trouble!"

Marik squeezed Bakura's hand in a rush of excitement, even while using his other hand to wave the rose around like he usually did with his Rod. "And make it double!"

"To protect the world from devastation!"

"To unite all peoples within our nation!"

"To denounce the evils of truth and love!"

To extend our reach to the stars above!

"Jessie!"

"James!"

"Team Rocket, blast off at the speed of light!"

"Surrender now or prepare to fight!"

Bakura leaned over again to whisper. "We don't have a Meowith."

"That's okay, I don't think this universe even has Pokemon."

"Then why are we even _doing_ this?"

"Because I always wanted to. We're going to jump now."

"We're going to wha-"

Bakura didn't even have time to scream. Marik ran along the roof-edge, dragging Bakura with him, and leapt off the side. Bakura closed his eyes and held his breath. He expected to feel a crack, and then the awful feeling of being trapped back in the Ring as his host died. He even had a second to almost feel bad for the poor kid, but before the thought fully formed, there was the cool, misty feeling that Bakura had grown used to. He opened his eyes and saw blue everywhere swirled with other colors. They were in a plot hole, and then they were near their apartment.

Marik was laughing like a drunk hyena. "OMG, Bakura! That was amazing~"

Bakura tried not to permit the smile trying to form on his face. "That was bloody stupid."

"Did we not get three more Items?"

"Well yes."

"Did you not get to punch Shadi in the face?"

"Yes."

"Did you not get to finish the lines even though you would have pretended like it didn't bother you?"

"Now that's simply unfair-"

"Do you not look sexy as hell in those boots?"

Bakura was blushing. "Dammit, Marik."

"That's what I thought. Evil Genius™ plan 1: Bakura 0. Now-" Marik still held Bakura's hand and tugged him down the street. "Let's get some take-out for dinner."

"In the cosplay?"

"Yes. It's very important that we keep a low profile."

"How is this low profile, Marik?"

"Geez, lighten up, Bakura."

"You didn't answer my question."

"Ooops, did I not? What question was that again?"

"How is this- buggering hell, never mind, you'll just divert it again."

Marik laughed, and pulled them into a restaurant, and ordered yakisoba for both of them. He hummed as he ate, Bakura kept rubbing his knuckles.

"You okay?" he asked.

Bakura nodded, looking at the scuff marks showing against the porcelain skin. "Great, actually. I probably broke his jaw."

"So violent, Fluffy." Marik laughed.

"And I didn't even have to go off screen to hit him since 4kids wasn't around to censor anything."

"I know right? Better yet, when the cops see the video it'll look like he got knocked the EFF out by a girl! Mwa-ha-ha-ha!"

"Speaking of our costumes again, will you at least take off the bloody wig? You're too bloody gorgeous to be anyone else except you." Bakura slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide. He'd been thinking out loud and hadn't really meant to _say_ it.

Marik stared, mouth slack, chopsticks forgotten in his hand.

"I- uh- I meant to say that-"

"Only if you take your wig off, too," Marik interrupted Bakura's stuttering.

And yet again Bakura knew his face was red. Only this time he was wearing a skirt and that somehow made it worse for him, but at least he could take off the wig so that the red hair didn't match his cheeks. When both of them removed all the pins and tossed their wigs on the table, their eyes caught again and there was something a little too solid about the moment. Bakura swallowed, and grabbed his drink for a distraction from how good Marik looked now that his hair was gold again.

"So … six of seven," Bakura said.

Marik grinned, it was a little nervous though, not as confident as usual. "Yeah."

"I have to admit, your plan has worked so far."

"... Yeah."

"We're almost done."

Marik nodded, poking at his noodles.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Marik grinned, and Bakura knew he was lying. "Everything is going according to keikaku!"

"Bollocks. Tell me."

"It's fine, Bakura. I have until tomorrow to think of something."

"Oh," Bakura said, understanding. "You still don't know what to do about the Ring."

"It'll work out somehow."

"Just because the Rings would combine, it doesn't necessarily mean _I_ would get absorbed by the other spirit. It might just be both of us trapped in one Ring."

Marik snorted, still trying to fake cheerful. "One Ring to rule them all, one Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them."

Bakura chuckled. "In the Shadow Realm where the Yami Bakuras lie?"

"I can't risk it."

"Maybe you could."

"EFF you, Bakura."

"You could always try to separate the Items after the Pharaoh's been crushed. It's worth it to beat him."

" _Not to me it isn't_."

"You said there were calculated risks."

Marik slammed his hands against the table, ready to scream, ready to start a brilliant argument right there in the restaurant; however two Steves in Rare Hunter robes chose that time to interrupt. One started to sing while the other played an accordion and picked up the extra lines.

"I can see what's happening."

"What?"

"And they don't have a clue."

"Who?"

"They'll fall in love and here's the bottom line- our trio's down to two."

"Oh."

"Not now! Just- ug, all Steves can have the rest of the day off! Get out of here."

But the Steves weren't paying attention. They were caught up in the act, and Bakura was laughing his ass off as he watched karma drive Marik crazy with his own ridiculous scheme.

"Ze sweet caress of twilight. There's magic everywhere, And with all this romantic atmosphere

Disaster's in the air!"

"Go away Steves!"

Three more Steves appeared and all five of them picked up in chorus. " _Can you feel the love tonight!_ "

"Aaaaaarg! Fricking frigg! Silence! SILENCE ALL OF YOU! Go home!"

" _Can you feel the love tonight? You needn't look too far! Stealing through the night's uncertainties, love is where they are~_ "

Marik started tugging at his own hair, slamming his head into the table.

Bakura still cackled, his voice echoing. Every single person in the noodle shop stared at them in shock and second hand embarrassment. Bakura did something uncharacteristic then- showed mercy. He'd only ever do it for Marik. Bakura jumped up, his red wig fell to the floor, but he ignored it. He grabbed Marik's hand and dragged him out of the shop and onto the streets.

"Bakura, what-" Marik shrieked as he got dragged through the city.

"Well, I doubt they can keep up in those ridiculous purple robes you make them wear. Especially the one with the accordion."

"I can just use the Rod-"

"But isn't this more fun?" Bakura looked over his shoulder, grinning.

Marik stared at him, almost hitting a light post before turning his attention back to his escape route and Bakura continued to drag him through the streets. "Well, I guess I don't want to be a kill joy!" Marik shouted.

Behind them the Steves followed, trying to sing "The One" by Elton John, apparently that was the theme of their facetious serenade, Elton John songs. But Bakura knew the streets, and he zig-zagged through traffic and shops and a park where old men played Go, or maybe it'd been localized to chess, Bakura wasn't sure. The important thing was that they dashed through a flock of pigeons who then decided to attack the Steves which slowed them down, and after a few blocks of random running and singing, the Steves dropped away one by one, leaving Bakura dragging Marik behind him by the hand although they were no longer being chased.

When they got back to their flat, Bakura's laughter returned.

"Ha, ha, _funny_ ," Marik snapped.

"That's what it's like, you know, dealing with you all these years. You're sour because you had to take your own medicine."

"It was supposed to be _funny_ \- I mean, the idea was funny when _you_ were the one getting annoyed. God, once you give them a task they're relentless. How do I even manage with them as henchmen? And _stop laughing_."

Bakura did, wiping a tear out of his eye. He glanced at Marik, leaning against the door, hair mussed from the outside air, face flushed from running, and Bakura leaned in close, like a snow leopard closing in on his prey.

Marik bit his bottom lip, smiling. "What's that look for, eh?"

" _And you can tell everybody this is your song. It may be quite simple, but now that it's done,_ " Bakura sang in a voice like gravel and cashmere both at once. " _I hope you don't mind. I hope you don't mind_."

Marik's flush doubled and he turned away. "Now you're mocking me."

Bakura took Marik's chin, pulling his face close. " _That I put down in words … how wonderful life is … while you're in the world_."


	8. Intermission

_...Meanwhile in Ryou's Soul Room…_

* * *

Ryou pursed his lips, a stick of chalk in his hand. "Okay, this is the seventh fanfic spell I've tried, let's see if this one works."

He drew a circle on his Soul Room floor and a pentagram within the circle. He placed white candles near each star point, and a large red candle in the center.

"This had better work. If I summon another Dark Grepher then I'm just going to make _him_ my boyfriend."

He had other things in the strange summoning circle, bones, a voodoo doll made to look like Melvin, and enough herbs and spices to recreate Colonel Sanders' secret recipe for fried chicken.

"Okay … what now?" Ryou stared at the story. "It doesn't say, oh bugger." Ryou tossed his tablet on the bed, slumping to the floor in defeat. Laying sprawled in the middle of the summoning circle, Ryou grabbed the little Melvin doll he'd made, petting the crazy straw hair and tracing the purple button eyes with the tip of his finger. "I'm sorry, Melvin. I really did try to get you out of the Shadow Realm, but all these spells are bollocks."

He kissed the little doll's forehead. There was a crack like clichéd thunder in a gothic horror, and a flashing of lights like awful B-movie special effects, and then there was a heavy, warm, familiar weight sprawled on top of Ryou, accompanied by a sadistic and maniacal laugh.

"Well, well, well … look what I've seemed to have trapped beneath me," Melvin leaned in close, smirking. "A sweet little piece of key lime pie, waiting to be devoured."

Ryou rolled his eyes. "Haha, limey because I'm British. Bloody hilarious."

Melvin shrugged, making no move to rise from on top of Ryou. He looked around. "Where are we?"

"My Soul Room."

"It looks like a dorm room where nerds live."

"Yes, my Soul Room."

Melvin frowned. "Are you still letting Florence run around like your body's a stolen pair of jeans? Just chuck the Ring in the garbage disposal already."

"And have to deal with all the other wankers in the show? No thank you. I have everything I need here. The wifi reception is better than in the flat, I can sleep in as late as I want, and the kitchen's stocked with anything I can imagine!" Ryou's gaze became sleepy … tempting. "And no one's here to tell us what we can or can't do. We can do anything we want … have anything we want …"

Melvin licked his lips, leaning down as close as he could to Ryou's mouth. "And are you craving the same thing I'm craving?"

Ryou gave Melvin a sweet, sweet smile. "You know I am."

Melvin laced his fingers with Ryou's, licking his lips yet again. "And there's no one here to stop us."

"Or tell us it's too sinful."

"Or tell us we're overindulging."

"Or say how it is bad for us."

"Mmmm," Melvin purred. "My mouth is watering just thinking about it."

"Mine too. Hurry up, I can't wait another moment."

Melvin cackled. "Then maybe I should make you wait. _Torture_ you."

"You won't. You want it as badly as I do."

"Hmph, you're right. Race you to the kitchen." Melvin sprung to his feet and dashed to the kitchen nook in Ryou's Soul Room.

"Cheater! You were bloody on top of me!" Ryou shouted as he stumbled to his feet and ran after Melvin.

Melvin pulled the ice cream from the freezer and the whipped cream from the fridge while Ryou grabbed chocolate syrup, oreos, and gummy worms, along with a huge bowl used for ramen. They arranged the cookies and worms to look like the fresh-dug dirt of a shallow grave and grinned at each other.

"Damn, I've missed you so much while I was in the Shadow Realm."

Ryou laughed. "Me? Or the ice cream?"

"Yes."

"We playing Diablo after this?"

"Do I love murdering everything I see?"

Ryou smiled, blowing a loose strand of hair out of his face. "As long as you keep the mass murder to the screen."

"Who would I kill here?" Melvin rolled his eyes, grabbing two spoons and taking the mountain of ice cream to the sofa, placing it between himself and Ryou.

"Me." Ryou laughed.

A sharp, wicked gleam flashed in Melvin's eye. "That's right … no one could hear you scream."

Ryou licked a dab of cream from his wrist. "Nope. You could do whatever you wanted and no one would hear me scream."

"Perhaps I will kill you later, a little bit."

Ryou blushed. "Well … as long as it's only a little bit."

* * *

*****TMI AN: I don't like airing out laundry in public, and I hate sympathy from people because it makes me feel awkward and like I'm ruining everyone's day (anxiety and all that), but I'm just going to be blunt, when I was working on the next chapter last Tuesday morning, I got a call that my grandmother had died, and I haven't written much of anything since (especially for this fic). My grandmother was more like a parent than a grandparent. She was amazing, just so damn amazing. I just feel like I need to have that fact in writing for everyone to read- she was amazing. Between my best friend, my other grandma, and now this grandma all dying within six months, it's just slowed my writing down a lot, and I'm sorry. I know I still have Lemonade prompts, and drunk tumblr prompts, and Nanner's bday fic, and I'm going to write all of that (I WANT to write all that), I'm just a little slow right now. I'll finish this fic, too. The next chapter is close to done, I just needed a break from it- just a week or two (since I was working on it when I found out, it made me sad to look it). So this Intermission chapter (originally I just put it for shits and giggles,) is a real intermission now, and hopefully I can finish a few chapters this weekend (I think I'm okay to work on it again). And I know no one's going to lecture me for taking a break. I know you guys are going to tell me it's fine (thanks), but I'm still sorry for the delay. This is the first time I put a fic on hold, so I'm personally perturbed about it although I know you guys understand.*****


	9. Chapter 9

*****Thanks for the break everyone! The story is now finished so I'll post a chapter tonight, Sunday, and Monday and then we'll be done!*****

* * *

Bakura wasn't sure what the fuck he was doing. He _knew_ exactly what he was doing, he simply wasn't sure _why_. He was holding Marik's face and kissing him like it was somehow The End, and there'd never be another time to kiss, and all the pretenses they had ever put up for each other … for everyone, were somehow useless because the countdown for a great doomsday device had reached zero and there'd never be a time to regret their decisions. But there was no countdown, no end, only kisses far too soft, too sweet, to pretend that lust had much to do with it.

Marik's fingers traced down Bakura's white throat, toying with his collar bone. He sighed through his nose, kissing back with the same gentle pressure as Bakura. He went to grab Bakura's chest, but broke their kiss and wrinkled his nose.

"What's wrong?" Bakura asked, brain lost in a haze.

"The boobs aren't really doing it for me."

"Boobs?" Bakura blinked, then looked down at his stuffed chest, blushing. "Well, it's _your_ fault I'm dressed like this!"

Bakura slung off his shirt and gloves, but he couldn't unfasten the hooks to get out of the bra.

"Bloody hell … how do I … Marik get me out of this thing!"

"Bakura, it's not that hard ... um ..."

"Well?"

"Gimme a minute …"

" _Well_?"

"Oh c'mon! I've only done this once before when I was Tea!"

"What!"

"Silence! I just have to … or maybe if … frig this." Marik twisted Bakura back around so that they were facing each other again. He pulled away the bottom sheath of the Rod and used the hidden blade to cut first the straps, and then the center of the bra. It fell away from Bakura's body and Marik shrugged as he covered the blade again with its gold sheath. "Sorry. The one time you manage to be smooth and I ruined the mood."

But Bakura disagreed, feeling the cold blade brush against his skin as Marik sliced through the fabric with a quick, efficient skill that Bakura hadn't realized Marik possessed did anything _but_ kill the mood. In fact, Bakura was _aching_ to be touched after watching how Marik could handle a blade.

"Bedroom," he gasped, feeling like he was dying of fever.

Marik noticed Bakura's reaction, grinned, and started to strip off gloves and boots on his way to Bakura's room. Bakura had to struggle out of the tight skirt, and he sat on the bed in order to unzip the tall, leather boots.

"Leave those on." Marik smirked, crawling on top of Bakura completely bare.

Bakura gasped, mouth dropping open in shock as Marik's perfect, copper body eclipsed him. Marik was warm, but a shiver swept across Bakura's nerves as their skin touched. Bakura groaned, reaching up and sliding his fingers down Marik's shoulders and chest.

As their kisses picked up where they'd left off in the living room, Bakura kept thinking _this is it, this is happening, this is *happening*._ Each time their cocks rutted together, Bakura had to use Marik's mouth to muffle his own ecstatic moans.

"Where's your lube?" Marik asked.

_Sweet sodding darkness yasss._

Bakura reached under his pillow and pulled out a bottle. Marik snorted a single laugh at Bakura's unsubtle hiding spot before taking the bottle out of his hand. Bakura reminded himself that he'd need to be gentle. That it was Marik's first time. That they should take it slow…

Without warning, Marik crammed three fingers into Bakura's ass.

"What the buggering hell, Marik?" Bakura shouted, arching up and wincing from the burning, thrilling, but still burning sensation in his asshole.

"Prepping."

"One at a time! Who said I'd bloody bottom, anyway?"

Marik started laughing.

"Shut-up! I could be verse!"

"Sure, sure." Marik winked, switching to two fingers and slipping them in and out of Bakura's asshole. "But it's out of my hands. There was a coin toss, and you came up tails."

"Who the hell called it? You?"

"The fangirls."

Bakura snorted. "Figures."

"Is this better?" Marik asked, hooking his fingers up.

Bakura's breath caught in his throat. He started to lose focus.

After a while, Marik used more lube before slipping the third finger back inside. Bakura grunted, leaning his head back. Although he usually didn't care about his host's opinion on things, his mind reached out, trying to find the little bastard who'd been MIA, to make sure this wasn't crossing a line that even Bakura didn't want to cross, but he only got a sense of _yeah, yeah, Feefshipping, great, but we're busy ourselves just now, so go away_. Thus, Bakura figured it wasn't his problem if the little creampuff got pissy later.

And since when did his host speak in the royal "we"?

Bakura couldn't give it any true thought with Marik's fingers inside him. Marik massaged Bakura's balls with his free hand, grinning when he saw Bakura's cock jerk in anticipation. Bakura squirmed against the sheets, clutching them with his fists, kicking them with his boots, and savoring every second while mentally begging Marik to get started.

"Want me to go slow?" Marik asked.

"Bloody hell no, I don't want you to go slow," Bakura rasped, his voice coarse and needy.

"But maybe we should-"

"Marik!"

Marik answered with action, holding his cock to line up, but then pushing in hard, fast, and all at once. Bakura screamed, jerking halfway up, and gripping Marik's back out of desperate reflex and making Marik gasp.

"Marik?"

"S'okay." A breath stuttered out of Marik's mouth after the response. He hadn't started moving yet, but Bakura could feel both their bodies heating up, already sweating. Marik's cock twitched inside of Bakura ass, begging for friction, begging for movement.

Bakura squeezed tightly, encouraging Marik to move, and Marik did, a few half practice thrusts, and then deeper, harder, proper slams of his cock.

Bakura squeezed his thighs around Marik's waist, and held onto Marik's back for dear life. He didn't really process the scars except as a texture beneath his palms. He was so much more focused on everything else about Marik, the sounds of his breath huffing, the burning heat of his skin, the way his girth threatened to tear Bakura apart in the most delectable of ways.

Marik lathered sloppy kisses on the side of Bakura's face. They tickled. Bakura turned a little, a mix of laughter and gasping making it hard to breathe. Marik trailed down to Bakura's jaw, and then his neck. He started biting and Bakura's laughter vanished, replaced by pleading groans. His hands started to wander, eager to move and explore Marik's body. He rubbed circles into the center of Marik's back, toyed with Marik's sides where scar tissue gave way to the softest, sleekest skin Bakura ever felt. His thumbs slid up and down Marik's adonis belt, and his hips hitched up to meet Marik for each thrust.

Marik fumbled for Bakura's cock.

"Not yet," Bakura whispered. "A little longer."

"Bakura," Marik groaned against Bakura's neck. "I … can't …. You're so friggn' tight. I-I want-"

A little swell burgeoned in Bakura's chest at the statement, at knowing that Marik was losing control in the act. He gripped Marik's waist, slung a leather-clad leg around Marik's backside to weigh him down, and started guiding Marik's hips in a much slower rhythm.

"A little longer," Bakura insisted. "I've waited so long."

Marik exhaled through his nose. "Yeah … me too."

"You're a fool," Bakura whispered, his voice was warm and tender though, almost uncharacteristic if not for the insult woven into the tone.

"Well …" Marik tried to laugh, but he was panting too hard. "You're a spoony bard."

"I still don't know what that means." Bakura's mouth dropped open and his eyes slammed shut, even trying to slow Marik down, each slam of Marik's hips was a hard and brilliant burst of pleasure that thrummed from Bakura's intestines up to his navel.

"Foolishly amorous," Marik gasped between thrusts.

"What?"

"Spoony … it-it means-"

"You wanker, did you know what it meant before?"

"Of course."

" _Ahh_!" Bakura shouted. He meant it to be an insult, but Marik chose that time to pick his pace back up to detour the argument.

Marik grabbed Bakura's cock again. His grip was good, but his rhythm was awkward, so Bakura slipped his own hand between their bodies to take over. A swell of pleasure built below the base of Bakura's shaft, tremors of ecstasy shimmied up and down his spine. Bakura arched as high as he could, allowing the tension in his groin to build and expand until he was-

"Bakura, please!"

-Until he was …

"Please!"

-Until he was trembling, nose scrunched up and teeth bared as he started to come. Marik bit his throat one last time, a perfect _Vampire the Masquerade_ joke that they'd never make hanging in the air, and then he was pouring out hot and thickly between Bakura's legs. Their breaths sounded ragged and argumentative after they finished, destroying the silence that hung in the room now that their moans had quieted and their bodies had stilled.

Marik grabbed him, holding him like he thought Bakura would disappear and carding his fingers through Bakura's hair.

"Hey," Bakura said, his voice heavy and tired from shouting.

"I'll think of something. Before morning, I'll figure something out. We'll get the Items- all seven of them. We'll take over the show. Then we can end it however we want. With tacos! Won't that be great, Bakura? Tacos? And you can look into my eyes and tell me how much you hate me. The fangirls will love that part. Way better than some stupid old Ceremonial Duel where I just stand around like a twat and do nothing."

Bakura chuckled, sleepy, and more happy than he'd care to admit. "Is that what this is all about? You hate that you stand around on the side lines like the rest of the cheerleaders at the end instead of being a sexy villain?"

"Yeah … that's it … I deserve better, don't I?" Marik said, but it didn't sound like the whole truth. "Clearly I'm as sexy and villainous as ever. How dare the show redeem my character and not - in any case, once the show is ours they'll be changes, is all I'm saying. Less card games and more shots of my totally ripped physique."

Bakura tried to grin. "I'd watch a show about your abs."

"Yes! Exactly! Just a solid hour of staring at my abs!"

"Lovely stuff." Bakura chuckled. "Let's go to sleep. You wore my ass out."

Marik snicked. "Literally."

Bakura nodded, eyes closed and face nuzzling Marik's shoulder.

Marik petting his hair again, but soft this time, not desperate like a moment before. "G'night, Fluffy."

"Nite." Bakura lay there with his eyes closed, breathing slow and steady.

He really did want to fall asleep, but there was something he needed to do, so he waited until he was positive that Marik had fallen asleep before slipping out of bed. He washed up, dressed, and snuck out of the apartment with all the finesse and skill he'd acquired during his time as a thief. The night air felt cool on his face. The breeze felt liberating as it touched his hair. He thought about … being himself, about how he'd managed to keep his identity, more or less, after 5,000 year trapped in the bloody Ring.

And if he could survive all that, a little timey wimey time and space paradox bollocks wouldn't be able to hurt him, would it? Of course not. It couldn't. He couldn't allow it, because Marik was counting on this plan to work. Bakura wasn't sure what Marik wasn't telling him, but since the beginning there was something about this scheme that was different than everything else they'd ever done, and not because Marik wasn't _quite_ as dumb as he pretended to be, but because this was the first time that Bakura ever saw him put full effort into something.

For some reason Marik felt like he _had to win this time_ , so Bakura was going to make sure he did. He wasn't sure how it'd work, perhaps he could talk his canon self to work with Marik over on this side of the water for a bit in exchange for Marik helping Bakura's canon self afterward. If all negotiations and bargaining failed, Bakura would simply do what he always did- take what he wanted. Who's to say that, if the Rings merged, that it had to be _him_ that vanished? Maybe it was whoever had the weaker will? And Bakura knew that he fought for more than his canon self did. His manga persona merely wanted vengeance, and while Florence still planned on defeating the pharaoh no matter what, _he_ was also fighting to help Marik- ninety nine versus one hundred- for once the odds were truly in Florence's favor.

Bakura reached the plot hole.

He stared at the shimmering blue. Bakura swallowed, feeling a shiver of cool waving from the portal. He realized he'd never done it alone before. He'd always had Marik dragging him into it, holding his hand.

Bakura tried to think of the best place and time to meet himself. Perhaps right after his canon self noticed the Eye was missing. Bakura knew himself well enough to realize how enraged he'd be if someone stole right from under him. His double would be furious, but also determined to get his property back. Bakura could negotiate- help for Marik in exchange for all seven Items afterward. Bakura knew his double would take the opportunity, just like he had in Battle City.

And Bakura would have to keep his fingers crossed that the distortion that had occurred when the two Eyes met wouldn't be worse with two main characters as well as two Items standing together. He had to hold out, at least until he assured Marik's success. Then if he disappeared, then if he got sucked into oblivion, or merged with his canon half, it wouldn't matter. Marik would win. The Pharaoh would be cast down from his high place. For Bakura, that was a happy enough ending even if he wouldn't be around to see it … and maybe in some way he would still be around, and then he could see the victorious grin on Marik's face as he took over the show. Bakura liked the idea. It would be like in the mornings when he handed Marik a toaster pastry, only it'd be their entire world instead of two small, frosting covered squares.

Bakura closed his eyes, held his breath, and prepared himself to step into portal in front of him.


	10. Chapter 10

He shifted his weight forward as he took the first step, feeling the almost non-existent chill tickle his skin, but before he could immerse himself in the portal and reach the other side, a pair of arms wrapped around his stomach and squeezed.

Bakura's eyes shot open. He could feel Marik's forehead press between Bakura's shoulder blades. He knew it was Marik because of the warmth of his body, the strength of his arms, the smell of Bakura's own shampoo carried in the breeze.

"Bakura … don't."

"I know what I'm doing Marik. Trust me."

"Idiot … you idiot … how were you going to bring it home? I'm not even sure what would happen to your host's body let alone you."

"I know," Bakura said, not turning around to face Marik, but not breaking Marik's hold either. "I'm going to make a deal with myself. He'll help you if I promise him the Items once you're done."

Marik snorted, but his voice sounded tight from emotion as well as muffled from Marik being pressed against Bakura's back. "That idea isn't original at all! C'mon, you're killing me over here. I can't make us cutting edge villains if you just recycle my old material! I already told you I'll think of something, and when I do, It'll be so original and fresh that'll I'll end up on the cover of Vogue!"

"Marik, stop."

"Stop what?"

"Acting like everything is fine and dandy. Something is bothering you. You want this plan to work. I'll make sure it does."

Marik's hold on Bakura became crushing. He looked down to see Marik's hand clutching at his stomach, and felt Marik trembling against him.

"What good would it do?" Marik's whispered. "What good would it do if…"

"Marik. Tell me."

"I don't want to argue, Bakura."

Bakura couldn't help the dry laugh that escaped him, although he knew the gravity of the situation. "That's a first."

"Come home, and let me think of something," again Marik whispered. It was like his voice was dying, getting softer each time a new sentence formed.

Bakura sighed. He wanted to. The portal was cool, the night air was cool, but Marik's arms were warm, and bed sounded far better than jumping over to a dimension where he knew it was raining. "What else is there to do? Send me as far away from you as possible so the Rings don't get too close?" He allowed the horrible idea hang in the night air for a moment. His chest hurt when he thought of not being able to go near Marik when the time came to antagonize the Pharaoh. Jesse would never sit at home while James fought Ash alone. "I'd rather disappear than do nothing. At least if I'm absorbed into the canon Ring I'll be useful."

"Stupid, don't you get it?" Marik's voice returned, but it sounded cracked and broken. "If you're not here, there's no point fighting!"

Bakura spun around, breaking Marik's hold. "Yes there is. You. You still get to be the final villain. You get to give me the thing I've always wanted- vengeance. You get to have your own show and prove that you're better than all of them." Bakura found himself holding Marik's cheek. "Because you are. You deserve the show."

He expected some sort of smile, or a hilarious comment about being the sexiest man alive, so when Marik's face crumpled, when tears began to roll down his cheeks in faded, black, kohl-polluted trails, something in Bakura's soul felt struck, like he'd been hit and he'd deserved it for making Marik cry.

Bakura shook his head, frowning. "Marik? I … I'm sorry. I don't-"

"I don't care about the show!" Marik screamed, face red, eyes bright and pleading for something, but Bakura didn't know what. Instead of explaining, Marik continued to scream. "I don't care about the show! I don't care about Yugi! It doesn't matter if I take the show and lose you! You're the only reason I made the stupid plan in the first place!"

Bakura shook his head, confused, but smiling a little because he didn't want to lose Marik either. He shook his head. "I don't understand."

"In every dimension you disappear!" Marik continued to scream. "Dub, sub, manga- it doesn't matter, every piece of source material. You just-" Marik made a POOFgesture with his hands. "You lose, Bakura. You lose, for no good reason, because you're not the protagonist. That's why …" Marik shook his head, trying to wipe his eyes.

Bakura reached up, catching the teardrops that Marik missed. "You did … all that … just because you thought I might disappear?"

Marik's jaw clenched. He turned away so Bakura couldn't look at him.

Bakura stood, trying to process the shock of it. "You … surely there was another reason."

Marik snapped his head back in Bakura's direction. He looked angry at the suggestion.

Bakura shook his head. "You just wanted to look sexy doing it all, right? Or get more fangirls … or screen time. I mean…" Bakura snorted, shaking his head. "You wouldn't go through all this trouble just for me."

"If you believe that," Marik said, his tone somber. "Then you really are the stupid one between the two of us."

"But why?"

Marik flushed. "Aaaarg! Because, Bakura, you're a wanker and I hate you!"

It was Bakura's turn to flush, not that he wasn't used to it. The words held in the air. _I hate you_. It was a bad joke in a deleted scene, so why was Bakura's heart fluttering in his chest? Why was his throat dry? Why did he feel light-headed and giddy? Like he should lift Marik up and spin him in the air while singing parodies about how hatred conquers all.

A single, weary snort of laughter escaped from Bakura's mouth as he shook his head. "And you call me spooney?"

"Silence!" Marik shouted, wiping at his eyes again.

Bakura sighed, but a little smile was there, under the weariness. "Marik, our show's a parody. I'm sure everything will work out alright for us."

"But do you _know_ for sure? No. You don't. I have to _make sure_. I can't lose you again."

Bakura grabbed Marik and squeezed the blonde to his chest. "Yes I do. I know because I'll make sure it works out for us. Marik …" a breath shuddered out of Bakura's chest. "I swear I won't leave you alone at the end of it all. I'll never leave you alone again."

He swallowed and weighed the truth of his own words in his chest like Anubis would weigh a feather against his heart. At great length, he added, "Even if that means …" Bakura shut his eyes again, swallowing. It still hurt, giving up the best chance they ever had to make the Pharaoh suffer, it ripped a hole into the center of Bakura's chest, but that didn't stop him from finishing the sentence. "Even if that means we give up this plan."

"Give up?! Marik Sebastian Ishtar III does NOT give up!" Marik squawked, pushing away from Bakura.

Bakura rolled his eyes. "Okay, then we'll put the plan on hold until you think of something."

"Yeah, that's more like it." He stared at Bakura a long time. "Are you really okay with that?"

Bakura stared at the street. "As it stands, we either let the Rings merge-"

"-That's _not_ an option!"

Bakura nodded his head when Marik interrupted. "Or I leave until you've beaten everyone on your own to prevent them from merging- which is also not an option."

"Then I guess we'll shelf the plan- _only until I think of how to work out this minor setback_ ," Marik grumbled, pulling out the Rod and stroking it. "Can I at least keep _this_ one?"

"Will keeping it unravel the very fabric of the space-time continuum and doom us all?"

"Mmmmmaybe." Marik grinned. "But, Bakura, I look so sexy when I stroke it."

Bakura raised an eyebrow.

Marik rolled his eyes and exhaled. "Fine, you friggn' buzzkill. We'll put all the Items back in their proper space and time first thing tomorrow- but when we get the Items the second time I'm going to make sure the costumes are even more spectacular than the first time, so prepare yourself, Fluffy. You're going to look amazing!"

"Can't wait." Bakura snorted and then shrugged a single shoulder. "At least we have all of season four to think of something. I'm sure that'll be no problem for a genius such as yourself."

" _Sexy Genius_ , Bakura!"

"Indeed." Bakura reached out his hand for Marik to take. "Let's go home."

For a moment, Marik looked bashful, toying nervously at the shaft of the Rod before slipping it in his back belt loop and crossing his hands over his chest. "What makes you think I want to hold your hand?"

Bakura smirked. "Well, if you'd rather walk home separately- and sleep separately too."

"Shut-up and take my hand!" Marik grabbed Bakura's hand and started dragging him home. "Geez, Bakura, your hand is like ice! Why are you always as cold as a friggin' corpse?"

"Because I am the nightwalker who glides through oceans of blood, beyond human, a monster whose power radiates with a darkness that casts a shadow on darkness itself."

"Please Bakura, we're above TFS references, don't bring us down to Tristan's level."

"Piss off, Marik."

Marik laughed up into the sky, swinging their joined arms in a wide arc. Bakura grinned as they walked home, but the smile faded a little. "Are you really okay?"

Marik slowed their hands, taking in a deep breath in and out. "We'll think of something, and I mean, our fangirls would throw a fit if we didn't get a happy ending, right?"

Bakura chuckled. "Would they bloody ever."

"Besides." Marik shrugged. "Even in canon, just because it doesn't _show_ what happens to you, doesn't mean you didn't figure something out. At least _one_ of the hundreds of fanfics had to have figured out what would've happened, right?"

Bakura snorted. "Let's hope not."

Marik laughed. "Okay, you have a point there."

By the time they got to bed Bakura couldn't keep his eyes open anymore. He tugged off his clothes, left them on the floor to be dealt with later, and curled up next to the warmth of Marik's body. The last thing he remembered was stroking Marik's silky hair and feeling his arms squeezing Bakura until it almost hurt. In the morning there wasn't loud singing or boxes of a complete and nutritious villain's breakfast, frozen for convenience- there was just Marik curled up between Bakura's arm and chest. As soon as Bakura stirred Marik woke up, looked at Bakura, and smiled.

* * *

"Well that took no time at all," Marik said as they entered their flat, each one holding a bag of tacos that they'd picked up on the way home. They were from the canon universe. Marik wanted to see if the tacos tasted any better in canon compared to their abridged versions.

"Yes, it's amazing how productive we can be when we just do everything off-screen."

"And as soon as we came back to our own dimension the Millennium Eye reappeared in your hand! That was pretty convenient." Marik grinned, plopping onto the sofa and digging into his bag of tacos.

"I still don't see why we can't just let the Rings merge and then-"

"No way, Bakura! I already told you, our evil lair is too small to have two kitties."

"We'd be in the Ring! And when it's over we'd just separate again!"

"That is too much trouble. _We just put them all back!_ It took like, two whole hours, ain't nobody got time fo' dat. I'll just think of a better plan." Marik bit into his taco and scowled. "Honestly, I'm not impressed."

Curious, Bakura tried a taco as well. "A little bland, honestly."

"I know right?" Marik sighed. "Well, what did we expect. Not every dimension is as great as ours."

Bakura snorted, taking another bite. They weren't bad tacos, just not as good as the ones they got closer to home. "So what's your next brilliant plan?"

"I'm glad you asked! We're going to get a hot air balloon! And then swoop down like some … big, fierce, swoopy bird of prey, and then we'll grab the Millennium Puzzle right off of Yugi's pointy little head! Without it, Yugi won't be the main character anymore and we can do whatever we want on the show! Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!"

"Marik, you're copying from Team Rocket again."

"Am not!"

"Yes you bloody are. They were in a balloon and tried to steal Pikachu."

"Shut your buggering mouth, Bakura! My plans are always brilliant and original!"

"They _did_ it already."

"WELL WE'LL LOOK SEXIER WHEN _WE_ DO IT!"

Bakura laughed, tossing his empty bag in the rubbish bin. "I can't argue with that. You look sexy no matter what you do."

Marik tried to hide the fact that he was flustered, but Bakura could tell by the way he fiddled with the remote control. Bakura walked over to the couch, letting his white hair brush against his shoulders as he made a slow path straight for Marik. "So tell me, oh sexiest of villains, what brilliant, evil, mastermind plan have you con _coc_ ted for us tonight?"

Marik shrugged, vibrant lavender eyes locked on Bakura. "Netflix and chill."

"Really?" Bakura started to crawl onto the arm of the sofa, slinking closer to Marik's mouth with each movement.

"Yeah. Literally." Marik flicked the remote and brought up Netflix on the screen.

"Marik Sebastian Ishtar, don't you bloody dare."

"You forget the III."

"You sod off and kiss me this instant." Bakura demanded, on hands and knees and hovering over Marik, his white hair dripping down from him like thawing icicles.

"I don't know … that sounds pretty gay."

"Marik."

Marik laughed, and Bakura leaned in for a kiss anyway.

Marik laughed harder, trying to push Bakura's face away. "No! You'll taste like tacos!"

"That just lets us know this is real," Bakura said, and Marik let his hands "slip" so that Bakura could crush their mouths together.

His fingers snuck through Bakura's hair, combing out little snags as they kissed. "At least you skipped the onions this time," he said when they broke for air.

Bakura felt himself blushing. He'd cut the onions because of how Marik had teased him last time.

Marik chuckled, toying with the button on Bakura's pants before popping them open. "I should make you wear the neko hoodie."

"I _refuse_ ," Bakura snarled.

"But _Fluffy_ you'd look so cute!"

"Take that hoodie and bugger yourself with it."

Marik nuzzled against Bakura's throat, still chuckling. "I'd rather bugger you."

Bakura flushed again, and let Marik strip away their clothes.


	11. Epilogue

… _Meanwhile in the manga universe …_

* * *

Marik sat on a dune outside of town. He'd taken to driving his motorcycle out of the city every morning so he could sit alone and watch the sunrise. It was almost like he was waiting for something, something bigger and more grandiose than the sun, but Marik could never figure out _what_ that something was, so he sat and thought about everything that had happened since Battle City, and wondered why something important still felt … unresolved.

Marik was always alone in the mornings, but a figure was walking towards him now. At first, he mistook the person to be a woman. Heels wobbled in the sand and the person struggled to keep balance in a smart black and white dress. He held his right hand out for balance, the left held a hat with an enormous brim in place despite the desert winds.

Marik calculated odds. Even sitting down, if he rushed the stranger walking towards him, the heels would give way in the sand and he'd fall, giving Marik time to reach his knife.

"Who are you?" Marik called out to the figure.

The lipsticked smile was both rueful and amused, the other half of their face hidden behind large sunglasses. "Gaga. Lady Gaga."

Marik glared at the stranger, frowning at the fake name. "What do you want?"

The stranger stopped a suspicious distance away, looking cautious. Blonde curls bounced in the wind as the hat tried to fly off stranger's head. "I'm here to give you some advice."

"I don't want it." Marik tried to stare past the stranger, to look at the sunrise that'd brought him out into nowhere in the dark.

"You thought it'd be different, right? You were the best. You deserved more, and now you don't know what to do with yourself."

"Who are you really?"

The stranger smiled again, mauve lips perfectly matte and lined out. "A friend … think of me as your incredibly sexy fairy godmother."

Marik stood, flicking out a switchblade that had once belonged to a thief and a stealer of souls. "Leave."

"Geez man, what the eff?" The voice was like a squawk, grating on the nerves. "Haven't you ever heard of _don't kill the messenger_? Do some friggn' yoga, my dude."

Marik was done talking. He walked towards the stranger and down the hill. The stranger stumbled backwards, falling over his heels and landing hard on the ground.

"Ow! My delicate, gorgeous tushy!" he wailed like a fool.

Marik ignored him, ready to attack, but when he got closer the world started to spin and throb. Marik felt sick, like he was being pulled in precisely nineteen different directions, and above all that there was a distinct tug towards the stranger that unnerved Marik.

The stranger scrambled backwards until the surreal effect disappeared, allowing them both to breathe. He acted like a ruffled bird, brushing sand from his outfit and frowning when he realized his hat had been claimed by the wind and out of his reach. The fall skewed his glasses and he straightened them in a rush and Marik wondered what he was hiding.

"I wouldn't recommend doing that again." He crossed his arms over his chest and tapped a heeled foot in the sand.

Marik pinched the bridge of his nose. He was tired of magical bullshit interfering with his life. "Say what you have to say and go away."

"Yeah, because your schedule is booked." The stranger gestured to the empty dunes around them. He spoke again before Marik could give risposte. "Look, you don't know me, but I know you, and I know you're not happy."

Marik snorted, crossing his arms over his chest, switchblade still in hand.

"Find Bakura," the stranger said, and turned to fetch his ridiculous hat.

"Bakura Ryou?"

"Foolish fool! Not the host!"

Marik scowled. "You mean the Ring Spirit?"

"Yes! Bakura! Aka Yami Bakura, aka Fluffy, aka Florence."

Marik couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. "Florence?"

"Yes!"

"Is his name really Florence?"

The stranger paused a moment, grinning. "Yes. Yes it is. That is totally his actual name. On his birth certificate and everything- it's canon- I swear! Call him that after you bring him back! He'll be really happy!"

Marik snorted. "Bring him back? How? _Why_?"

"Because he's the only one that truly understands you," The stranger said, oddly subdued compared to his previous words. "And you're not bored when you're with him."

Marik was silent, thinking. He doubted Bakura truly understood anyone except himself, but it was true that Marik had never been bored around him. "You never mentioned how."

"I don't know. I just know you have to try." The stranger stuck his hat back on his head, giving the appearance of a femme fatale in the wrong movie. He snorted. "Isn't that why you're here? You're looking _at_ the sun, but really you're looking _for_ him."

* * *

…. _We now return you to your regularly scheduled fanfic…._

* * *

Bakura paced the length of the living room, pretending that he wasn't waiting for Marik to come home. He'd woken up on the couch from a dead sleep, the kind that one falls into after a good buggering, but he'd woken up alone with a blanket draped over his body. A quick search of the flat revealed that Marik was gone, no doubt babysitting a dozen Steves or picking out something horrible in which to dress Bakura.

The door slammed open, Marik shouting _my skillz_ though that reference was worn thin at this point. Bakura still smiled when he saw him. "Figures." He snorted, gesturing with his head at the bag of tacos in Marik's hands. "Didn't we _just eat_ tacos?"

"I wanted the good ones," Marik lifted his chin as if insulted. However, he tossed the bag on the coffee table as if he wasn't really interested in fourth meal. "Whatcha doin', Fluffy? Waiting for me to come home like a good kitty?"

Bakura bristled, dodging the question. "I just now woke up."

Marik grinned. "Did I wear you out that much?"

Bakura flushed. He couldn't win no matter what he did or said. In order to distract Marik and avoid the conversation, Bakura pulled out his cell phone and brought up Pandora, clicking the first station in his list. As ill luck would have it, _Your Song_ started playing through the tiny phone speaker.

Marik tossed his head back to cackle. Bright red, Bakura chucked the phone next to the bag of tacos on the coffee table, crossing his arms and pretending like none of it mattered.

"C'mon, Bakura, sing to me!" Marik bridged the gap between them, grabbing Bakura's hands and forcing him into a clumsy waltz across the living room floor.

"No!" Bakura shouted.

"You did a few chapters ago. Please~" Marik batted sandy lashes.

"That was, err, um, what I mean to say is-"

"At least dance," Marik said.

"Isn't that what we're trying to do?"

"You have to spin me."

A flustered sigh escaped from Bakura's mouth as he twirled Marik. He pulled Marik back in, and suddenly Marik was leading. Their feet were clumsy, but there was a certain grace to it, like how a drunk navigates their way successfully to the loo without falling onto their face or breaking any bones.

Bakura found his head resting on Marik's chest, and maybe he was _muttering_ the lyrics, in a grumpy voice, but he certainly wasn't _singing_.

The melodic sound of Elton John faded, giving way to a guitar rift that screamed _Jimi Hendrix._ Marik broke their stance, fist pumping. "Yes! My jam!"

"Since when?" Bakura crossed his arms over his chest.

"Since now." Marik shook his hips with the music, singing along. " _There must be some kind of way out of here, said the joker to the thief. There's too much confusion, I can't get no relief. Businessmen – they drink my wine. Plowmen dig my earth. None will level on the line. Nobody of it is worth._ "

During the guitar solo, Marik flipped so that Bakura could stare at his ass as he circled, crouching low and then rising like a gold and amethyst phoenix from flames. Facing Bakura once again, Marik smoothed his hands against the curves of his body. Near the end of the solo, he pointed. "Take it, Bakura!"

Was he smiling? Maybe. Was he taking slow steps to the middle of the living room floor where Marik continued to dance with hips more honest than Shakira's? Definitely. " _No reason to get excited, The thief – he kindly spoke. There are many here among us, who feel that life is but a joke, but you and I we've been through that, and this is not our fate, so let us not talk falsely now. The hour's getting late_."

Marik grabbed Bakura by the waist and pulled him closer until their bodies were flushed together. Bakura's bangs fell into his eyes, and everything he saw was ivory, gold, and amethyst. He felt more than saw their bodies grinding together to the music, their dance a little more competent when they free-formed, or maybe it was simply the way Marik moved that kept them from stumbling.

The third stanza began and Marik took it home. " _All along the watchtower princess kept the view. While all the women came and went, bare-foot servants too. Outside in the cold distance a wildcat did growl~"_

Bakura provided the growl as Marik sang, up close to Marik's ear so that the vibration of it would tickle. Marik grinned but didn't stumble in the lyrics.

" _Two riders were approaching, and the wind began to howl."_

Marik tilted his head down, brushing his nose against Bakura's until they were both chuckling. Marik started to move them in circles, not a dance move, just twirling both of them in a dizzying spin of their bodies. Their laughter grew loud, uninhibited, villainous, until they tripped and toppled to the ground in a twist of arms, and legs, and laughter as _Whole Lotta Love_ by Led Zeppelin started playing into the living room.

* * *

… _. Meanwhile in Ryou's Soulroom …_

* * *

"I should have never trusted you," Ryou growled, frustrated, his muscles straining to keep himself upright.

"I haven't killed you yet. Quit your whining."

"I can't … move."

"This is still easily the most benevolent game of Twister I've ever played."

"But how will we spin the board now? There's no bloody way I can reach it in this position."

"Here … lemme just … whip out my rod … There!" Melvin cackled as he pulled out the golden artifact and used it to spin the cardboard wheel. It landed on left foot blue.

"You've got to be bloody kidding me!" The only way he could reach was to thread his leg between Melvin's splayed legs, who was in a crab-walk position.

Ryou blushed as bright as the red circles below them and they held the position tangled together. Melvin grinned, allowing his tongue to loll out of his mouth as he gave Ryou a wolfish look.

"Hey, Limey?"

"Y-yes?"

"You know, if you're bored with Twister we could always-"

"Wait, why do you have to Millennium Rod?"

"What?"

"The Millennium Rod. Why do you have it?"

"Because it's mine?"

"But didn't Marik give it away? How can you have it when he doesn't?"

"I, well, it's … it was convenient to use at that moment!"

"Well a plate of biscuits on your chest would be convenient for me, but I can't make them appear."

"Do we really have to talk about this now?" Melvin growled. "This whole bit's only here for murdershipping fanservice! Why I have the Millennium Rod isn't important."

"Yes, we have to talk about this now. It's driving me bonkers. You shouldn't have it. How can I suspend my disbelief if details aren't consistent? It creates a plot-"

They both shouted as they dropped from the floor into misty nothingness. Ryou felt himself land on an uneven surface and then roll, dropping again with Melvin now on top of him. Melvin grinned and licked his lips when he realized than he had Ryou pinned to the carpet.

"Who the frig let these nerds in here!" A distinct, high pitched voice shouted. "Frig! You frigging wankers put a frigging plot hole in our ceiling!"

Melvin and Ryou jumped to their feet, confused as they stared at their other halves glaring at them from a bed covered in black, satin sheets.

"Are ... are you cosplaying Pink from the Lady Marmalade video?" Melvin asked with a slack jaw and blinking lavender eyes.

"Don't you freaking kinkshame me!" Marik shrieked. "YOU are the gay one!"

Ryou noticed his own double and squeed. "Oh, you're a kitty cat!"

Bakura tried to pull the hoodie low, clearly naked beneath it. "Breath a word of this to any of the other characters and I will _gut_ you."

Melvin began laughing. "You were going to FUCK dressed like that?"

Everyone but Melvin blushed.

Marik growled, pointing towards the door. "There's tacos on the coffee table!"

Melvin and Ryou exchanged and excited glance. "Tacos!" They raced to the bag on the coffee table, ignoring … whatever it was, exactly, that they'd interrupted.

Instead, they each pulled two tacos from the bag and hummed as they ate- a bad habit of Ryou's that he'd given to Melvin. Ryou looked around the room. It'd been awhile since he'd seen his flat, having spent so much time in his soul room. "What's that?" Ryou asked, noticing a huge sheet covering something in the corner of the room.

In purple and glittery puff paint someone had written DON'T TOUCH! SUPER EVIL MATERIALS TO DEFEAT PHARAOH BENEATH SHEET. ONLY SEXY VILLAINS WITH PERFECT ABS MAY TOUCH AND NOT SALTY BRITISH KITTIES THAT OVER-ENUNCIATE THEIR WORDS!

"Hey Melvin, you're a sexy villain with perfect abs. You should see what's under the sheet."

Melvin snorted, throwing his taco wrappers on the floor and marching over to the cloth. "Probably a lifetime supply of shimmering bronzer and cherry lipgloss."

He jerked the sheet away without ceremony.

"Oh how fun!" Ryou ran to the laundry hamper filled with water balloons and grabbed two. "Let's have a water balloon fight!"

"What? Why?" Melvin asked.

"It'll be fun!"

"Don't you dare!" Marik's voice shrieked from the other room.

Melvin grinned, taking a bright red balloon from the pile. "Come and stop us, Mr. Main Personality!"

Marik tried, running out of the room with murderous intent only to have his top hat knocked off of his head by a red water balloon.

He glared at Melvin. "Of course you realize that this means war."

Melvin and Ryou both pummelled him with balloons.

"Bakura~ help!"

Ryou heard a groan and then saw Bakura hop into the living room while struggling into a pair of boxer shorts and dodging water balloons. He and Marik took shelter behind the sofa.

"Foolish fools!" Marik lifted his head up above the couch to shout, but then ducked down in time to dodge a yellow balloon. "I always keep a spare basket of water balloons ready for emergencies!"

"What? You do not," Bakura snapped.

"Yes I do!" Marik argued.

"Where, pray tell, would you keep such a thing?"

"In the _Deus Ex Machina_ closet."

" _When did we get one of those_?"

Marik shrugged. "About the same time the plot hole appeared in the ceiling."

Behind them was such a closet. Neon lights flashing TOTALLY BELIEVABLE DEUS EX MACHINA CLOSET.

Melvin snorted. "Is your sexuality hidden in there as well?"

Marik rolled, snatching his hat, evading balloons, and rushing to the closet and flinging it open. "No, but this action pump BFG super soaker is." Marik started pumping the gun to build pressure.

"You're very good at that," Bakura purred, barely ducking in time to get his cute kitty ears soaked.

"Shut-up and back me up, Fluffy." Marik ordered.

Ryou saw an opening and threw, drawing first blood, so to speak, by landing the orange balloon right on Marik's bare chest. It burst, splashing Marik's skin with water.

"Yes!" Melvin cheered, laughter echoing throughout the flat. "That's my bae!"

Marik growled and water dripped down his 10/10, A++, would recommend abs. "I am so going to wreck you for that, Bakura's-Host-Guy!"

Ryou grinned, grabbing another balloon and taking a step closer. "Bring it."

* * *

*****Hopefully by next Monday I'll start posting "Dancing With The Moon" which is a Visionshipping fic (It's almost done, I'm hoping to finish it this week), and while I post that I'm going to try and get back to the Lemonade Stand, too.*****


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